Dienstleistung
by adrenalynn1986
Summary: Bo Dennis needs a job. Lauren Lewis needs a driver. Bo POV. All human. OOC. Doccubus!
1. Chapter 1

**This is something that came into my mind and wouldn't leave me alone.  
Lauren is a little OOC, if you don't like something like that, you shouldn't read this one.  
Anyways, whereas I'm on Team DOCCUBUS, this actually _is_ a Doccubus fanfiction.  
Thanks and I hope you enjoy this.**

 **(Yes I know, I keep uploading new stories without finishing the others, but I will finish every single one of them.)  
**

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 **Dienstleistung**

 _Chapter 1_

Bo was already late. Who would have thought that the word _Rush Hour_ had nothing to do with Rushing at all. Or getting from A to B fast. She felt more like riding on top of a snail shell than in a 320 PS strong car on a highway.

Frustrated with the situation, she fumbled with the large selection of radio channels in the black Hummer she could get used to drive every day. This car was huge on both the in- and-the outside.

When she skipped back and forth, the sound of Marilyn Manson's _Tainted Love_ found its way into the Orchestra of honking and the obtrusive reving of motors. Bo turned the volume up. Her black hat, she was forced to wear by the agency, left her head the second the car had been out of sight and was now laying on the dashboard.

Her dark brown hair was up in a ponytail and a few strands tangled in the light summer breeze coming through the windows she left open. Which was all four windows. She loved the wind sweeping across.

Playing with the countless buttons made her feel like being in a cockpit.

'Hello Ladies and Gentlewomen, my name is Bo Dennis and I am your pilot on the flight seven nine seven to Toronto airport. My crew and I are excited to welcome you aboard.'

Smiling, singing along the song and continuing to press buttons, she hadn't noticed the large gap between the Hummer and the vehicle in front of her, until an unfriendly permanent honking from behind distracted her. Traffic was moving. She pushed the gas pedal and the car burst forward with squealing tires.

The previously mentioned hat slid across and unfortunately out of the window of the passenger side.

"No! Shit!"

Bo tried to catch the item and nearly steered into the oncoming traffic. A heavy pounding heart and the small hairs on her forearms standing up in sheer horror were the result of that stunt show. With several calming breaths she adjusted her black sunglasses on her nose.

One look in the back-mirror, she could see the hats grand finale: The tires of a bus running over the black object. Resigned, her shoulders fell and she sighed heavily.

She couldn't afford to loose this job too. She needed it. Who else would pay her rent and her bills and buy food for her _and_ her cat?

She moved out of her parents house forty nine weeks ago. More because she couldn't handle the way her father treated her mother than because she was urged to leave. Although her father made it crystal clear that she was on her own the second her pretty little backside stepped out of _his_ front door. He had used harsher words, but the context had been the same. They had never had the best of relationships.

Since then she had six other jobs.

Her first one, at a dog parlor, lasted seven hours until that tiny little ass of a Chihuahua bit her in her left forefinger and wouldn't let go. Bo reacted out of instinct and shook her hand. Seconds grew into minutes and so that was the picture the owner of that little rat had seen her in. Hand shaking furiously in the air, yelling words of plain evil at the thing with its teeth still deep anchored in her skin.

That dump pedomotive-horn of a dog let go of her with the first shrill scream from the fat lady, who accused Bo to cruelty to animals.

Without a cent in hand but and a bleeding finger wrapped in a white towel, dappled red( she had to pay for it of course) Bo was kicked out with the nice sound of a _'don't you dare come back ever again'_ in her ears and the need for a tetanus injection.

The second job lasted a while longer. She was working in a store-refilling the shelves. One afternoon she found herself hanging head down first on a ladder. A few broken glasses of red cabbage laying on the floor, covering it with its purple content. A customer slipped and plunged into the sea of vegetables.

Bo tried to explain but all the manager had wanted back then, was her to be gone and immediately. Her back had hurt like shit and she couldn't remember how she ended up in that position on that god damn ladder but was kind of glad that she didn't clunk on the floor. That would have been ouch and urgh.

At least she received the salary minus the broken glasses of red cabbage for the seven days she had worked in the shop.

Her third try on the employment market had been embarrassing and kind of sudatory. She had to tout for a snack bar down the main road near her apartment building in a Wiener-costume. It was rather hot inside that disgusting piece of plastic and fabric, which smelled like the last guy had a serious problem, hormonally speaking.

The first dogs barking at her, only made her flinch a bit. But then there had been this tiny, short haired, pop eyed, spiky eared one. Dog number seven. A Chihuahua. She didn't mean to do it, but her extremities had worked on autopilot. So when her foot got into contacted with the animals small frame and it flew across the pedestrian area, squeaking, she ran.

Just for the record, running in a Wiener-costume sounded funnier than it actually was. Her legs had about forty centimeters for each step, so she wasn't surprised, when she rounded the next corner, she fell. Hard.

Good thing she had incredible bounceback-ability.

The next job, her fourth, she worked in a French fires stall. Her hair smelled like old deep-frying fat all the time and after seven weeks she couldn't stand it anymore. The skin of her face glittered all the time and it seemed impossible to wash off the layers the oily substance had built to fill up each and every pore. Her tiny one room apartment could get confound with a chip pan. Even her cat refused to cuddle anymore. So she quit.

Job number five left her aggressive and annoyed. Call center. Who invented that? A living hell of ringing phones, yelling reverberation on the receiving end of the line and no fresh air or daylight in that big underground office. But she took great pains to keep that job. Even though every end of shift her head hurt and a distracting tinnitus continued to get under her skin.

When she began to hear phones ringing back at home in the middle of the night, she knew she'd go insane if she kept doing that job.

Seven weeks later, she quit, again.

The last working condition was her favorite until that one day. She cashed up a young girl with short blonde hair who bought two bras. It was a lovely small boutique specialized on underwear. Bo was in a good mood. Finally everything seemed to work out right. Three months, two days and five hours. A new record.

The owner, a kind woman in her early fifties, adored Bo.

On said day, after the young girl had left, a greasy man in his late fifties came in. He was looking for a new sexy bra for his new lady lover. He made stupid jokes about his wife and that he had to pay cash so she wouldn't find out about his newest conquest. A lean, hot brunette, just like Bo, he laughed. And amazing in bed.

Bo felt like vomiting but kept a straight face. That was before he stood in front of her and lunged for her rack. Saying, he didn't know the size of his bedtime candy but her boobs looked like Bo's and he wanted to feel if it was about right.

Bo was flummoxed. She counted to ten. Better said, she _tried_ to count to ten, but couldn't restrain her growing anger and at seven her fist connected with his face.

After a talk with her boss and the unavailing try to smooth the situation and the crying man holding his now bleeding nose, she was told to apologize and to leave the store. The old lady was done adoring Bo but told her about the need to talk to a therapist about her impulsive aggression and violent tendency.

Impulsive aggression her ass!

The next week had been one of left overs and water. Her last dollars went into cat food. Bane shouldn't suffer for her lack of adaptability.

Now she was driving this elephant of a car. A chauffeur office was searching for a new employee. A high esteemed family was in need for a new driver. Easy thing. Bo loved to drive, although she couldn't come up with enough money for a car of her own, but she had her drivers license and thought of herself as a good member of the road traffic- community. And to all of that, for a monthly pay she could only have been dreaming of.

The next exit ramp in four kilometers. Toronto airport wasn't far. She could actually make it in time, or at least with only a few minutes delay.

The motor roared in excitement. The snarl-up vanished into thin air and the black gelding she was riding could show off its power to the song _Ring of fire_ blasting on highest volume out of the speakers of the front, middle and back console. Dolby surround in a car. The world was a happy place.

Smashing the brakes, Bo got the beast to a halt in the VIP parking space at her destination. Jumping out, she straightened her black blouse. She opened one extra button of the perfect fitting fabric, because she felt like Sex, Drugs and Rock n Roll after her jam session with Johnny Cash, and smoothed down her black dress pants.

One last grip inside the passenger door, Bo fished for her also black blazer, put it on, locked the car, the windows rolling up by themselves, and with a clipboard in hand headed through the glass door into the massive hall of the airport.

She was greeted with the sight of at least six other men in suits, each holding up a paperboard with big letters written on it. Bo stood in line, holding up her clipboard.

 _Lewis._

Sounded like an old, rich socialite. Some snotty little upstart, anything but what Bo saw walking up to her.

A woman wearing a black costume with a white blouse underneath some formfitting black blazer. Long blonde curls waving with every step she took. Black sunglasses with a silver frame hiding most of her face. A suitcase in her left hand and a briefcase in her right.

Bo was holding her breath. Her mouth fell open. She managed to take off her own sunglasses to get a better view. The woman couldn't be that Lewis person. She was gorgeous and her upright, strong strides testify to someone who knew exactly what they wanted.

"You're late!"

The goddess stopped in front of the brunette. Bo couldn't form coherent words right now.

"I said, you're late. I had to wait. I hate waiting."

Bo was fighting an inner battle to put herself together. The woman looking back at her cocked her eyebrows and frowned.

"Gosh, here take my things and lead me to my car. Do what you're getting paid for."

The blonde clashed the briefcase against Bo's chest, hard enough for her to stumble backwards, left her suitcase next to Bo and walked past.

The clock opposite on the wall screamed at her. Seven minutes late. _Seven minutes_. What was it about that number?

Bo turned and rushed behind the all-business-beauty.

Back in the car the brunette stored away the bags and got behind the wheel. She took the chance to look into the back-mirror. The blonde was sitting behind the passenger seat with her head against the headrest. The sunglasses tucked in the pocket of her blouse and the blazer was now neatly folded next to her on the backseat. Her eyes were closed, so Bo risked a longer glance.

The blonde looked tired, but that wouldn't diminish her elegance.

Soft, flawless skin with shades of rouge on her cheekbones. Long eyelashes covered in black mascara, a fine black eye lid line and gray shadows upon her lids added to the picture of that gorgeous human being Bo was looking at intensely.

Her lean throat stretched and her head slightly leaned to the right letting her hair fall naturally around her face like a golden frame. The white blouse unbuttoned just enough to reveal the delicate line of her collarbone and a hind of cleavage.

"Would you stop staring and start driving? You already made me late and I would appreciate to be able to have a nice, hot, but now rather short shower and some freshly brewed coffee before I have to get to my next meeting, thank you very much!"

Bo snapped out of her daydreaming and started the engine. The radio burst out, yet again on high volume. _Where is my mind_ by the Pixies. Yup, suited.

With panic in her wide opened eyes, she was searching for the right button to turn off the music. The first opened the trunk, the second and third started the windscreen wiper. Back and front. Number four turned on the hazard flasher and finally the fifth was the one and only to end this obscure scenery.

The inside of the car fell silent.

Bo was breathing short and avoided to look back, afraid of the respond the blonde would launch into her.

"I do actually like that song."

Bos eyes focused on the back mirror again. The woman hadn't moved one millimeter. Her eyes still closed, features relaxed.

The brunette was about to reply, taking one final breath and opened her mouth, but was cut short by the blonde.

"But I do like silence about a trillion times more. So I would recommend you be more cautious with your work. You're at two strikes already. The first was making me wait, the second was the lack of seriousness when on the job, though I suggest number two led to number one. So if you want to stay in business, don't get a third."

Her voice held authority but was rather soft, slow and low.

Bo gasped several times, the right words, dude, get them out.

"Of course, Ma'am. It won't happen again. I really really need this job and I will do my very best to get you as comfortably as possible to your destination. I have to apologize, Mrs. Lewis."

"I'm not married."

The brunette couldn't think of a response.

"So Miss Lewis will do. Where is this old, guy that used to drive anyways?"

"Oh, you mean Mr. Clark. He is at the hospital. Heart attack, his wife an kids are..."

A grunt confused Bo in mid sentence.

The blonde was rubbing the back of her nose, shaking her head.

"Oh I am sorry, did that last part sound like I actually cared? My mistake. I don't. So if you please, please get this monster of a car moving? I would be very comfortable with the steady roar of its engine in my ears rather than your silly little attempt to have an actual conversation."

This Lewis person started to boil something inside of Bo and it wasn't nice and welcoming nor would it help in any way to keep her in this assignment. The blonde's head fell back and the woman shifted in her former position, eyes never once opened since sitting in the back, resting on the head support.

"Sure thing Miss Lewis."

The drive went on in absolute silence. Bo even managed to turn off the lady-voice of the navigation system. Luckily she had listened to that part of the instructions she had to get over with, when that guy back at the office spit out all those numbers and statistics of the Hummer H3 midsize SUV.

 _It's a classic Miss Dennis, and now that production ended it's limited. So treat her with respect and great care!_

Blah blah, woof woof. They were talking about a car, not a baby or a kitten. She knew how to handle a car. Well, she knew how to drive. There were only two pedals to make use of that where relevant to stir from the spot, but all that electric and extra buttons? Who would need that much of equipment in a vehicle? Seriously?

It's all about getting from the place you started to the place you wanted to get to.

No need for that extra double size cap-holder which would slowly extend by pushing that one button next to that other button which regulated the air condition. What happened to the times you just needed to roll down your window, by hand, and, tah dah, air conditioning. That simple.

The blonde's eyes were still closed and a steady breathing could be heard as if she was asleep, but Bo knew better than that. The last time she looked back and thought the woman had been falling asleep she was scared to death by a voice exhorted her to get that air condition to stop blowing cool wind into her face.

Bos eyes grew wider with every kilometer they traveled and the more they neared the apartment complex of the woman in the back.

Bos eyes grew wide because of the change of the surroundings. She was living in Toronto since, well, ever, but she couldn't remember she had ever been to this part of town. Probably not.

Yorkville.

She had only ever heard about it. Expensive and noble and snobby and all those things Bo avoided only to find herself driving this big, fat Hummer as a chauffeur for a woman she barely knew or even wanted to learn more about the more time they had to spend together.

The blinking of the navigation system told her that she had just missed to turn right.

"Dammit."

Now she had to find a way to get back on track. Easier said than done. A Hummer of all cars? In the middle of the city? Really?

Fortunately the navigation system came up with a alternative route. Next right, then the second right and they would be back in the game.

"Maybe you should pay more attention to the job at hand, than the landscape, Driver."

"Yes, Miss Lewis. And it's Dennis. Bo Dennis."

"Oh, I'm not good with names of the service provider my father hires. Too many, lasting not long enough to care. So, Driver will do."

Bo had to bite her tongue. She really felt the urge to respond but thinking about her bank account and the empty stomach growling every now and then, she kept her mouth shut.

Bad people always get what they deserve. Always.

At least that's what she believed in. But when the apartment building got into view and the navigation system told her, she arrived at the destination, Bo had to rethink that statement about bad people. That was definitely not what she had in mind.

A skyscraper. A very high one. With a guy in a uniform on a red carpet at the front door.

Bo leaned forward to get a better view out of the windscreen.

"Woah."

The brunette whispered to herself and shook her head. Back to business, she forced herself to climb out of the car and rushed to the backdoor to open it for the woman waiting for her with her sunglasses and blazer back on.

Without a word the blonde walked through the big glass doors into the lobby. Bo had to hurry with the luggage to keep up. Nodding politely when passing the older man in his red suit jacket. He returned the friendly gesture with a tip on his hat and a question not asked glistening in his green eyes.

"I've lost it."

Holding his forefinger in the air, he stepped back into a small side door only to return seconds later with a black hat in hand, like the one Bo should have worn.

"Take this one, lady, and keep it. The Lewis family is very old fashioned in every way possible. Oh and, that blouse, button up."

He pointed at Bos chest.

"Thank you, uh..."

Bo stepped closer and read the name plate.

"Bob. I'm Bo."

"You're welcome. And now get in there, Bo. Don't make her wait. She had fired service staff for less than that."

Nodding again and with a serious face Bo walked into the main lobby.

The blonde was about to step inside the elevator when Bo joined her again. The doors closed and yet again they fell silent. A young girl, also in the same uniform Bob was wearing, pressed the button above all the others. Loft, was written on it.

So the rich and famous couldn't even flex one finger to push a button? They need someone to do that for them? Boy, wasn't this the 21st century?

It seemed like an eternity when finally the large cabin came to a halt. The girl with her black hair also tied in a ponytail just like Bo tipped a few numbers on a key field. When Bo was thinking about it, all the other female staff she had seen on her rush to the blonde business woman had the same hair style. Maybe that was one of the conditions for recruitment.

With a soft ping the steel made elevator doors opened and she found herself standing in a large hallway. The ceiling must have been about ten meters high and a window front on the right, stretched out along the hall from the elevator up to a massive black door on the opposite and opened up a perfect view of the city. Bo yet again stood in awe with mouth slightly opened, consuming the sight of a perfect summer day on the outside.

"Driver!"

Bo flinched. She had to stop that staring and zooming out- thing. With a few fast steps forward she stood in front of the black door next to a frowning blonde.

"You can daydream and stuff when you're at home or... where ever. Now listen carefully. You are not allowed to enter that door. Those are my private quarters and nobody, I repeat, nobody has my permission to get inside unless I've told them otherwise. Understood?"

Bo nodded, looking the blonde straight into the face. She wore that damn sunglasses again and Bo saw her reflection in the small mirrors.

"Good. Now you are supposed to wait here. Take a seat or whatever. I'll be back again in about forty five minutes and I would appreciate a decent cup of coffee I am not able to get myself because of your miserable time management."

Miss Lewis held out her hand. Bo blinked, not sure what to make out of it. What a handshake? A bit late for that.

"My bags?"

Ah, anything else wouldn't have made sense. This person didn't seem to do formalities with anyone less than the queen herself. Bo handed her the suit- and briefcase and nodded once again tipping her hat.

"Ma'am."

That's when the other woman dropped her right forefinger onto a control surface. A blue line was scanning her fingertip until a buzzing sound followed by a click of a lock opening that broke through the silence. Without any other interaction the door fell into its frame after the blonde walked through and left a puzzled brunette to herself.

"Yes Ma'am, sure Ma'am, what ever you demand Ma'am. Gosh!"

Bo shook her head. This job wasn't what she had thought it would be. She had to behave around your highness and maybe was in need to learn to curtsy. But at first she needed to get that coffee.

Standing in front of the elevator again. Waiting. How long could it possibly take for an elevator to get up here? She took a look at her watch on her right wrist turned around on the underside. She wasn't someone who floated with the current. Her black Ice-Watch however, stood still. She tipped her forefinger against the glass.

"Oh come on. Don't leave me hanging."

The signs had been there in the past three days. At some point she could have realized that the watch was about to give up the ghost. Although she couldn't even remember if she had ever exchanged its battery. Not since she bought it that winter two years ago as a gift for Christmas for herself, because her family had never celebrated or exchanged presents on any occasion.

She was proud of her watch. The first item she got herself of the money she had earned. She had cleaned several hallways for older women in her neighborhood.

A now familiar ping got her out of her mind and back to the present. Stepping inside the large cabin she pushed the button for the exit.

"Ma'am, that is my job. You don't have to do it."

Bo looked up into blue eyes and a friendly smiling face. The girl she rode up with the last time was staring back at her.

"Sorry, but I'm not used to someone doing that kind of job for me. I'm Bo, by the way."

They shook hands.

"Lena. You're the new driver."

It was a statement, not a question. So Bo just forced a smile.

"Yeah, I am. Never thought it would be that... exciting."

"I wouldn't switch position with you for a thousand dollars. Pushing buttons isn't the best work to do, but I need the money for college and they pay me well. And I can avoid those fancy-schimancy crowd, or at least only have to be around them for a few minutes."

The cabin came to a halt on the lower-level and the doors opened to a busy lobby filled with service staff carrying luggage and business men and women in suits and costumes heading out of conference rooms or standing in crowds waiting for something Bo couldn't put a finger on.

"So, I guess we'll see each other around more often, now."

Bo was about to step out when she heard the girl whisper an _I hope so_.

Strange people. Why did they tell something like that all the time? It couldn't be that hard to be a driver for this family.

Bo maneuvered herself through an ocean of black and white business-style persons to the entrance. Bob was standing on the same spot she last saw him. The side of his head shimmered of a thin film of sweat, he was staring down on the floor.

"Hey, Bob. You okay? You look- pale."

The older man snapped out of his thoughts and locked eyes with the brunette who placed her hand on his right shoulder. Nodding he swallowed.

"Yes, uhm, Bo was it? I just, I guess I need some black hot coffee to refill my empty caffeine tanks."

Bo squeezed his shoulder one last time.

"Wow, good thing I am actually heading to the next coffee shop for the blonde devil..."

Bob's head was scanning the area. Leaning into Bos personal space he whispered.

"Shht! You shouldn't call her names. Not here. The walls have ears and eyes are also everywhere."

Bo shrugged.

"So, Bob, tell me, where can a girl get that black liquid of happiness?"

Bob described the way to Miss Lewis favorite Italian coffee shop. It would take Bo about twenty minutes to get there and back again. She had to hurry, yet again. She rushed to the doors of the black beast still parked up front. While opening the door she froze in movement.

"Shit, dammit. Bloody, fucking shhhh-"

Closing the door again, she hopped back to Bob, leaning to his left ear.

"I do have a problem, Bob. I've forgotten to ask this Lewis girl about the way she liked her coffee. And I have to admit, as much as I dislike the way these people treat their employers, I need this job. I don't want to offer another opportunity for them to spit bitchy remarks my way."

Bob smiled at Bo.

"There are two possibilities. First is black hot with one fake sugar, second is frozen black with a spoon full of caramel flavor. Maybe you should get both of them, if she didn't mention anything else."

With a kiss on the scraggy concierges left cheek Bo ran back and drove off. This time she wasn't going to mess up.

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 **Tell me what you think. Review, PM, Twitter (adrenaLYNN1986), whatever, wherever. Thanks**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here we go. Thanks for all of your awesome comments. I hope you'll enjoy this one.**

 **Thanks Em!**

Chapter 2

Bo arrived home way past eleven pm. The small white hand-made sign told her that the elevator was _'Out of Order'_ (as usual) so she had to take the stairs up to the sixth floor. It wasn't the first time and it definitely wouldn't be the last.

After a fourteen hour day of following orders and making a fool of herself here and there, why wouldn't she have _loved_ to climb the one hundred thirty eight stairs when she had come home tonight?

Yes, she had counted them. Out of pure boredom and maybe a bit of despair, because most of the time the lift had been on vacation when Bo's feet and legs had been heavy and sore after a day of walking around or standing behind a sales counter.

When she finally unlocked the door to her small apartment she felt relief until she took a step into living hell. The room was overheated. Although it had been a warm early summer's day, it shouldn't have become that hot inside. Like _really_ hot. The water in the small bowl she refilled for Bane was dried out, placed on the floor next to the fridge. The cat was laying stretched out on the flagged floor of the bathroom near the toilet, clearly searching for a less heated spot to sleep.

"Dammit. I swear, I'll kill Ernst."

Bo slammed the door back into its frame and stomped right up to the radiator at the wall across the entrance. It was boiling hot and she could almost hear the hissing sound when her fingers touch its surface. Like a steak in a pan.

Ernst, the facility manager-he insisted to be addressed as such although he was just a common laborer and a very bad one at that-had promised to repair the heating system yesterday, when Bo had told him about the broken regulation.

Keys still in her left hand and sucking on her burnt fore and middle finger of her right one, Bo ran back outside the front door. She flew the one hundred thirty eight stairs back down to stop in front of Ernst's apartment knocking like a maniac on the thick wood in front of her.

"Hey, hey, hey. Stop the noise. What's the matter, dolly bird?"

A very short, very fat, very disgusting, mostly hairless gnome, except of that one filthy, grubby black strand he used to comb from the left side all the way atop of his noggin to the right side, opened the door after a long time of knocking and yelling from the brunette. He was in his late fifties and used to play the role of Casanova, or better said, what Ernst _thought_ Casanova would be like. He failed. Big time.

He was wearing a muscle shirt once white but now grime-strained with a variation of multiple substances. Some were definitely a hand full of days older than others. His worn out blue overall was hanging loose on his hips and Bo sent up a silent prayer that it would stay put for as long as she had to deal with him.

"Ernst, the radiator. You said, you would fix it. My cat is almost dead up there. How am I supposed to sleep in that?"

His dirty nails picked at his teeth, eyeing Bo up and down lecherously.

"Yeah, you see, cutie," his tongue brushed against his teeth and with a final smack of his lips he continued, "I had a lot of work to do today. I'll fix it tomorrow."

He was about to close the door again when Bo's right shoe fitted foot held the door open.

"No. You and I will go into the basement and either fix it or at least turn off the radiator system as long as it's not working properly. I cannot stay up there, I'll be dead-roasted by tomorrow."

"You could stay here with me anytime you want, honey pie."

Bo's anger and disgust painted her face beet red. A shiver running down her back from the facility manager leering at her. Her inner voice cried out to punch him, hard, or at least let his low hanging balls get introduced with her right knee, but her logical mind won over her instincts. Unfortunately she was dependent on his help. Yeah, she could turn off the heater all by herself, but that shabby garden goblin had the keys she would need to get into the radiator-central.

"Oh. That is, uh...really um, _flattering_ , but I have to decline. My cat, you know- and I have to get up very early tomorrow. So would you make a tired girl happy and do something about that heat?"

After forty exhausting minutes and at least five of them gross, a few not so innocent remarks of Ernst, including a not anticipated view of his hairy, flabby ass crack later, which made Bo's stomach twist and turn in revulsion, she could get back into her four walls of silence and, well, inferno of an apartment.

Bane hadn't moved a muscle since the brunette last saw him. He didn't even deign to look at the weary brunette entering the bathroom.

Bo was sweaty and she smelled like a construction worker. Her work clothes hit the floor in less than ten seconds, good thing she got herself two sets of everything. A few minutes later, she found herself standing in the old and rusty bathtub, with cold water running down her spine.

Of course Ernst couldn't repair the heating system. How could he? He wasn't even very technically gifted. Bo once thought, the only job his tool belt had had to accomplish was to ensure that his overall would cover all the important pieces no one should ever have to face. Only one job!

But what was there to expect of an also very worn out leather bolt, screaming for mercy under the weight it had to carry?

So Ernst switched off the whole system including the radiator and hot water by showing off that extraordinary view of his very own Grand Canyon while crawling across the floor to the wall to get to the fuse box.

Bo made a mental note to not watch Ernst, while he was repairing stuff mainly by pulling the plug of any and everything and pretending it was all done, ever again.

After an unintended, but refreshing, cold shower, Bo was sitting on the small couch placed in the center of the room. All of the three windows of her apartment were open wide to get the heat out and some fresh air into the four walls of her domicile. She was wrapped up in a big towel. Her hair still wet, since the air of her hair dryer couldn't compare to the room temperature anyways, eating some buffalo mozzarella.

Her fridge was shimmering with yawing void. She found a beer and that little white ball of heaven she almost inhaled rather than ate. Bane sat next to her, looking up, listening carefully with his tail slightly moving.

A soft purring echoed through the apartment. The back of the sofa left enough space from the kitchen counter to walk through. A fridge, an oven and second countertop on the opposite wall with a tiny sink to the left and a microwave placed on the right atop, completed the apartment. It wasn't much but Bo was proud of every centimeter of her living quarters.

Patting her cat every now and then, Bo was reflected on the day's events by telling Bane all the delicate highlights, like she always did. A ritual both of them enjoyed.

"...and then she stepped into the elevator. No 'thank you' or anything. Just sipping the coffee I bought her. Not even mentioning that it was my money or any sign that she might be impressed that I managed to get the right amount of coffee and sugar or that I knew about her liking for hot and cold coffee at all."

Looking around her eyes fell onto the picture frame of her mother smiling back at her, standing on one of the boards of her shelf. It was a large self made shelf decorated with a few books, Blue rays (although the lack of a TV, not to mention a Blueray-player made it difficult to watch any of her favorite movies), CD's, a lamp, some candles and on top Bane's favorite place to stay and observe the surroundings separated the living area from the bedroom.

Well, bedroom was a rather flattering name to call the ninety to two hundred centimeter mattress in a steel-frame standing on brick stones and an old wooden case of wine converted into a nightstand positioned on the right side of the bed.

She had found most of the furniture in other peoples bulk trash and rebuilt, revised or repaired it with her own hands. She loved to create new things out of old stuff.

"Oh, and the way she made me feel. Uh- like I was back in middle school. I had this teacher who could freeze you in your tracks when he demanded you stop goofing around. She has this annoying calmness, too, even though something's visibly pissing her off. And believe me, that is quite a lot. She hasn't once raised her voice. Never. She is like the Nobel Prize keeper for inner peace and absolute control of mimic and gesticulation. It's driving me crazy."

Her gaze dropped back to her cat, who made his way onto the woman's lap, stretching, turning several times and finally letting himself plop down like a sand bag. Bo finished the last bite of cheese and drank the remaining puddle of beer. She adored that animal. Bane was a stray, almost famished when Bo had found him in that alley across the street.

He only had one eye and three legs. His red and white spotted fur became felted at the top of his back. His mew broke while he snuggled along Bo's legs. The cat hadn't been and still wasn't a beauty, but Bo's heart had swelled when she first saw him.

She had just moved in a few days prior, when she had heard his hoarse small voice on the back street and felt a bit lonely at that time as well. So one plus one made two lost souls happier and filled her empty apartment with life. Simple mathematics.

"The agency must have forgotten to tell me, that this job not only entails driving the freaking Dalai Lama around town, but being a modern slave who has to fulfill every wish your highness whispers in this authoritative yet soft way that's giving me the creeps.

Buying coffee had only been the tip of the iceberg. I was forced to go grocery shopping in a vegan shop while she had her meeting. Vegan, Bane.

What happened to the times where you would get drunk until you could hardly stand up and walk anymore, searching for the next junk food diner for a late night snack? Jesus freaking _vegan._

Next stop, some Eco-laundry shop on the other end of the damn city to get her suits _'because it is the best in town, Driver'_. Yeah, that's the icing on the cake. She's calling me driver, Bane. Yeah, fucking driver. She wouldn't even try to remember my name. I never felt more humiliated in my life."

Bane stared back at her, his small head leaning to the side.

"Yeah, okay, except for that tiny rat of a dog that was hunting me when I was wearing that Wiener-costume. You don't have to look at me like that, it was trying to eat me! I saw this- look."

Bo stood up and went to her bed. The cat watched her leave only to follow seconds after. The air had cooled down a bit by now. Bo replaced the towel with a black tank top and red boxer short. When she laid down a soft sigh left her lungs.

She set the alarm clock next to the bed. Five hours left to rest, to get up and drive back to that lean, blonde epitome of composure.

Clapping her hands twice the room went dark. Another item of her apartment she loved. She had installed this little gimmick herself, too. A girl needed some gadget tuning from time to time. She had to pretend to be Carlos's- a Spanish Matador- date to get this little child's play in hand.

Matador was the name of the large refreshment stand around the corner where Bo had to pass through when she was heading home. Since Carlos was one-eighth Spanish, he told everybody, everybody means every one with boobs and long legs, he was a Matador. That afternoon, the one she accidentally kicked that Chihuahua and half tore that Wiener-Costume to shreds, she was in need for an ice cold beer. So she bought one at Matador. Carlos was talking to another costumer about lights and installations, when Bo exited the store.

He had that sound controlled light system and wanted to get rid of it since it would go on and off every time he did the horizontal tango with some hot chick, who must have been deaf and blind to get anywhere near Carlos, Bo had been sure about that. The brunette hadn't thought it through when she joined the conversation and before she knew what was happening she was the happy owner of said system but also found herself sitting in his dirty car on the way to some cheap restaurant for a date night.

Carlos had never tried to hit on Bo ever again when she performed her _bitch-I'm-fabulous_ routine by ordering a menu of three courses only to recall it as unpalatable and bad as soon as the hors d'oeuvre had been served. The insistence to get a better dish to yet again refuse to eat it when the poor waiter got her the new one, because it wasn't what Bo thought 'medium raw' would be like. Some hysterical fit of laughter topped the restaurant visit and the night finally ended shortly after it had started with Carlos searching for the right words to excuse his date and for Bo to walk back home alone.

A heavier sigh filled the quite room. As exhausted as she felt right now, Bo knew sleep wasn't far. This job would challenge her in multiple ways. She had to keep herself together in every situation, stay out of any trouble and do whatever the heck this Lewis-Woman asked of her regardless of whether Bo liked it or not. She needed to stay focused. The Money, think about the money.

At least the car was a bonus. The agency told her to keep it for the week and return it for the weekends for cleaning and refilling if necessary. The only anchor she could hold onto. The weekends. Two days without being ordered around. This had only been her first day and her body and mind felt like working for weeks without a break.

How could a woman like that blonde Lewis-Person be so hot on the outside but cold as bloody Ben and Jerry's chocolate chip ice cream on the inside? Bo had caught herself more than once staring at her, sitting relaxed in the back of the car.

Another mystery.

The blonde seemed to tense up the second her right foot touched the concrete every time she left the car but would fall back into a sleep-like state as soon as she hit the seats and the door blocked out the world on the other side.

Closing her tired eyelids she felt her cat laying down next to her head on the pillow. His low purring sounds echoed through the air.

"Good night, little lion."

The week went by really fast. Bo was busy following orders, driving through thick traffic and the hardest part, keeping vicious remarks to a minimum or even the better trying to shut that damn mouth of hers completely. There had been at least one million reasons to call that Lewis-Lady names she wasn't used to hearing, especially from her staff, but there was one freaking good one to do otherwise. Staying employed. It was all about keeping the job.

So when Friday afternoon passed and the clock in the Radio slash Navigation-System slash Backup Camera switched to happy hour, Bo called the end of work day happy hour, the tight frown on her forehead disappeared and a small smile tucked on the corners of her lips. She would need a bath tub full of anti-aging plus Q10 creme to straighten those wrinkles.

Two hours left and you have the next fifty something hours to do nothing but chilly-vanilly.

Bo made a invisible list, on her invisible notebook, with her invisible black ballpen( she hated blue ballpens) of all the things she would do. Starting with a hot bubble bath tonight. She would buy a six pack of beer at Matador, maybe she could embarrass Carlos just a bit more. This job brought out the worst out of her. And she needed chips, she hadn't had chips for like ever and then she would snuggle up onto her couch with her favorite music filling her ears, her cat on her stomach and...

"...then you can get me at six pm tomorrow evening and..."

Wait _what?_

Bo stepped on the brakes of that monstrous vehicle and with squeaking wheels the Hummer came to a halt. When she turned around hectically she was met with an angry pair of almost golden orbs staring holes into her head. It reminded her of the eye of Sauron, that evil guy of Lord of the Rings. Her blonde tresses hanging in front of the woman's face like curtains. One simple move of Bo's right foot and the figure of pure perfection sitting in the back turned into a mess.

Like that one time she tried to paint her ceiling. She was dancing through her empty apartment painting and singing and didn't notice the little flask of red nail polish slipping from the windowsill into the white color after brushing past with her butt, still open from the nail-polishing-session the day before.

But that woman glancing back at her was a gorgeous mess nonetheless. Bo had to swallow hard and blinked about ten to- fifty times. She had never once seen this business lady without her sunglasses. Now the prompt stop caused them to fly off the blondes beautiful face and all the way to the dashboard.

 _Uh-oh..._

She had forgotten what she wanted to say, let alone the topic of their last conversation. Those eyes took her breath away. The intensity glaring back at her made her palms sweaty. Damn, was she turned on? _Again_?

"What is the matter, Driver? Are you going to sit there staring at me the whole night or is there something you wanted to say? Clearly there must have been a deer in front of the car, in the middle of city, because I cannot think of a better explanation as to why you felt the need to push the breaks like that."

And boom, turned off. That calm and controlled voice again. Bo really thought, she would get some bum basting, not that she was into that, but...

"I- uh- I thought, I had the weekends off."

"Yes, well, change in schedule. I need you to pick me and my- colleague up at six."

Was she just degraded to Lewis little helper to get laid? Awesome.

"But the agency..."

"I am the agency."

Great. So this wasn't just any business woman she had to chauffeur, no, it was her boss of a business woman. That meant this L&L sign hanging above the entrance of the company she got those set of wheels stood for Lewis &\- whatever, not Leave & Get Lost or Too Long & Luxurious or any other associations Bo's filthy, little brain had come up with when she saw those big balls and penis enhancements of cars parked in rank and file.

"And speaking of schedules, I need your mobile phone number, so that me or my secretary can contact you whenever your services are required. You left that part blank in your application papers."

Bo turned back around and steered the car back into the evening traffic.

"I don't have a phone number."

"Excuse me?"

Bo spoke up louder.

"I said, I don't have a phone number or a mobile phone, or any other kind of modern communication odds and ends."

"Where are you coming from? The Stone Age? I can't believe this."

Bo kept her eyes on the street.

No, you won't, Bo. Shut up, shut up.

"Better The Stone Age than Goat's Island."

"Excuse me?"

Shit.

Gripping the steering wheel tight, Bo waited for the inevitable to crash upon her. But looking in the back mirror she saw the blonde on the phone. She must have missed that goat remark. Hopefully.

"Yes, secretary, I need you to get a mobile phone and take it to my apartment building. Give it to that old concierge at the lobby- Bob? Who is Bob?- I didn't ask for his name. Just bring it in time. We'll be there in..." Bo's newly unmasked boss leaned forward to look at the navigation system, "twenty minutes."

Without any other words, she hung up and sat back in her seat. Bo had a hard time concentrating on the street while her mind was trying to process the new mixture of scents floating in the air after the blonde invaded her pilot-area, her cockpit. Within the blink of an eye, Bo was way too focused trying to analyze those aromas in her nostrils to care about the speed limit or that red light at the end of the street screaming at her to slow down.

"Driver, are you trying to get into the World-Records-thing for some kind of high speed road race? This is not a race track and you're not Michael Schumacher."

Bo shook her head and managed to stop the car just in time or the old lady with a walking cane would have been laying underneath the black beauty of a Hummer.

Had her Boss just tried to make a joke?

Two hours later, Bo was sitting on the kitchen counter, staring on the mobile phone in her hands. A _Samson Galaxies_ or something. Yvonne, that was the secretary's name, gave it to Bo with some instructions of how to load it and how to receive a call. She whispered in Bo's ear to never ever turn it off or run out of battery.

Her boss walked right through the lobby to the elevator. No further orders or even a goodbye. She just went on.

Bo hated those cellphones. After her job in the call center she never would have thought she could hate these obtrusive little ringing-monsters more. But she did. And now here she was sitting at home, the enemy in hand.

"What am I supposed to do with something like that?"

Although she loved technology, she had never been taken to that smartphone generation. In her head, walking and typing stupid little massages with stupid little so called emojis didn't fit at all. The brunette not just wanted to see where she was going but she wanted to explore the places she went or drove through. The scenery, the landscapes, the people, the little things like the sunbeams shining through the clouds of the morning sky.

Bane jumped at the counter to crawl onto her lap. Bo, lost in thoughts, flinched and the phone slipped through her hands on the hard kitchen floor.

"Dammit! Bane!"

Pushing the cat aside, the brunette got on her feet and reached out to grab the object of reluctance. Holding it carefully in her hands, looking for any kind of visible damage.

Relieved when she couldn't make out any scares of broken pieces she pressed the phone to her chest. Bane eyed down at the scene. His bushy tail twitching an unsteady rhythm. His light brown orbs observed the brunette suspiciously. Bo looked up at him.

"Yes I know. We hate them. But I am forced to own this piece of cheap plastic and overpriced metal. Sorry for pushing you away. Come here you little ball of fur."

Bo got up and petted him behind his right ear. The area which got him all cuddly and purr-y. He nudged his head against the brunette's caressing palm and brushed his way along her upper arm to the other side of the counter. A quick estimate of the distance between counter top and floor, he leaned forward and elegantly dove down to land on his paws without much of a sound. With his tale held high he strode out of the kitchen to the couch.

Bo jumped when the phone vibrated three times and a high ping rang out, like a microwave signaling when the timer had run out. Looking at the dark screen, a small lamp was blinking in the right corner near the earpiece. Pressing the button Yvonne had shown her, the display lit up and revealed a numeric keypad.

"Password. Shit, what was it."

Holding the item in her left hand, her right one was patting over her working pants. Front pockets to back pockets, to the front again.

"I know you must be somewhere. Come on. Don't- hide, ha!"

A small crumpled piece of paper found its way to the counter. Bo placed the phone next to the sheet and straightened the wrinkles.

"2407? Very funny Miss Lewis. Very funny!"

After tipping the numbers on the touchscreen the black thin bar at the top of the display showed the time, the status of the battery, which was fully loaded and the quality of the connection, which wasn't the best from what Bo could tell. One bar wasn't much, so it must be a miserable connection.

On the other end of the black line, a small envelope waited desperately to be opened. Bo's forefinger brushed across the screen and the bar followed her movement. Touching the small symbol a massage popped up.

' _Tomorrow, six pm sharp. Lewis'_

"Well, thanks for reminding me, I almost forgot. That's going to be sooo much fun."

With an ironic smirk on her lips and an overly enthusiastic wave of her fist through the air in front of her, Bo headed into the bathroom to get ready for bed, leaving the phone on the counter. It would still be there when morning came and Bo had no intention of getting it anywhere near her that night anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't know what to think about that chapter, mainly because I had a hard time finishing with my poor Duccubus heart broken and spread all over the floor after what happened in 5x12**

 **So I hope you'll enjoy it anyways, just let me know.**

 **Thanks to EmCelle and her fast editing.**

 **I so don't own Lost Girl or 5x12 wouldn't have ended that way!**

Chapter 3

Saturday. It once was her most favorite day of the week. A day meant for her to sleep in _and_ go into the city for some shopping. Well, shopping without actual shop for anything, but at least she could look at all those nice things she would buy eventually, or never but that was not the point. The point was, Saturdays rock.

This morning, this Saturday morning would probably go into her very own top ten load of crap hit list of all Saturday mornings. The day could not possibly have started any worse.

At first she thought, she was dreaming, when she had heard that sound screaming into her left ear. She thought, no way could this be real. She was laying on her right side snuggled up into her warm bed, cushion cuddled to her chest, Bane stretched out on her left side. He was heavy and she couldn't move one inch with him on top, but she loved it. It made her feel useful and welcomed.

When the sound grew more and more annoying and wouldn't go away after opening first one, then two eyes, she knew she wasn't in dream-town chasing blue colored fluffy Koalas with orange butterflies on their head and eating those mind blowing double chilly-cheese-bacon-burgers from Charlie's down the road while singing Ode to joy. Hey, she was a girl. It was very much okay to dream about strange colored things like Koalas as a girl.

Her mouth still wet from the near orgasm the taste buds on her tongue had reached, if she could have gotten just one more second and she would have bitten into this voluminous, enormous masterwork of burger art.

"What the freaking hell..."

Hitting her pillow, twice, and looking up at her cat she tried to come to grips with her fogged mind. Bane was staring back at her with plain hatred and a dead glance. She could almost feel the burn of the laser beams against her skin.

"Woah, buddy, it's not me high pitching the forgotten vocals here. Don't blame the human in front of you."

Bane stood up, stretched his lazy form, turned and swaggered off of the brunette.

"Diva!"

Bo forced herself to get up with a heavy sigh. Not even the sun had had the guts until now to come up all the way to present her new yellow dress. It was what? Sunrise? The clock screamed for Bo to just lay back down.

"Six in the morning. On Saturday. _Damn_ Six in the _godforsaken_ morning, on my beloved all times favorite sleep-in _Saturday_!"

Adjusting her top, that somehow made a habit of rolling up almost all the way, hadn't it been stopped by Bo's murder assets. Yeah, good to have those although sometimes it also was a malediction when the next cat call was thrown her way by one of those ugly, fat men of the construction crew raising a building across the street for half a year now.

Maybe it would be of help if they actually worked at some point during the day and not only drank beer or ate donuts and of course humiliate all these long legged, well formed, boobs-owners.

Thinking of donuts, those with the gaudy frosting and these little multicolored sugar sprinkles with...

"Oh boy!"

Her stomach growled.

Shaking her head she stood up fully.

Where did that sound come from? It was like Cher's and Mariah Carey's voices smashed into one and transformed into a baby sitting in George Micheal's throat singing the song 'Faith' backwards.

It's the stuff horror movies were made of and at some point, Bo could have sworn she had seen Freddie Krueger or at least his razor glove scratching along the wall opposite her bed.

Tiptoeing around the book shelf, Bo scanned the area behind. Nothing.

She walked on, one of the heavier books in both her hands, holding up. It couldn't hurt to be armed for the worst. It was not to joke about Freddie Krueger. She had learned that from watching the movies to an extent that could be considered noxious and a little insane.

Bane watched the scene tiredly, laying on top of the shelf on his beloved observing place.

"Well, thanks Bane. It's good to know you bolster me up!"

The sound got louder with each step. She must be heading in the right direction then. And there it was. The intruder. Blinking and jumping up and down while vibrating on the kitchen counter.

"What the...? You damn little thing! I give you shelter and that's how you're thanking me? By waking me up at six? On a Saturday?"

The phone.

That _smartphone_.

What was smart about that phone? When it had the moxie to make such noises in the middle of the night. Waking mother bear from her hibernation? It couldn't be that smart at all.

Throwing the book unceremoniously on the counter next to the peeping scoundrel, she grabbed it up, looking at the screen.

"Okay now what?"

She tipped her forefinger on it. The screen moved, but the sound wouldn't stop. Another tip, still nothing but loudness.

A heavy pounding on her front door made her jump.

"Dennis, shut it, it's Saturday!"

A muffled but angry voice yelled at her. Her neighbor, in his forties, living across the hallway. Mister Douchebag. Actually just Mister Douchés but, he was a douche bag.

"Yeah, I know what day it is. Thank you. Now move!" She had to yell over the shrieking item in her hands. But she would have yelled with or without the sing-sang.

They just didn't get along well from the very beginning.

Bo had carried, what felt like fifty cartons of bits and pieces up those one hundred thirty eight stairs, because of course the lift wouldn't move a steel robe that day, and that skunk of a neighbor had only stood in his door frame, watching the sweaty brunette with a grin and giving her good advice on how to heave the items spinal-protectively and without manhandling the content.

This was the first time Bo had thrown something at someone she hadn't met before. A pair of socks. Dirty ones. She congratulated herself for that overly genial idea afterwards with a six pack of beer and a frozen pizza. He hadn't bothered her for almost two weeks, but also she had never seen those socks again, gross.

Bo could hear heavy foot steps getting quieter and some other words spoken to no one in particular and it sounded like curses topped by a big bang of a door crashing in its frame again.

"Okay, that got you some gummy points, but I don't like you much nonetheless. So now shut the..."

With that the phone went silent.

"Was that so hard?"

Bo didn't know what she did to stop the subject yelling at her, but she was relieved. Sleep shivered through her body again. Tired, she rubbed her eyes. She knew she should go to bed again, but she also knew, once awake she wouldn't find back into slumber-land.

The day was already pretty hard to ignore anymore as wildlife started to wake up and with wildlife she meant the Jeffersons from the second floor. Babies were screaming. Bo couldn't imagine what it must be like with six months old triplets, a teenage girl and two dogs, but as she could hear the family's voices raising with the whining of the bunch of kids and barking dogs, it surely must be a piece of cake.

No more noises at this early hour, please. So she closed the windows.

At least she tried. The one in the small bathroom jammed all the time. Fishing for the broom she stemmed the stick between the inner frame and her right knee bent. With her right hand she got hold on the handle and her left fist hammered on the corner down right. Pushing the stick up with her knee, another beating against the corner, she smashed the window shut. You just needed to know how to help yourself.

Proud of her work she stepped back and went into the kitchen. Coffee. That's all she craved for. And maybe some eggs, bacon, bread, oh and those little cheesecakes with blueberries and some pancakes, which ingredients she didn't think she'd find in that center of no-food-area called a kitchen, but well, coffee was a good start.

Bane jumped onto the counter, sitting next to the phone. He watched the screen turning from black to all kinds of colors and a millisecond later that sound came up again making him jump up about twenty inches high, landing half atop the counter, paws clawing on the edge to keep him from falling, but failed and he snatched off the screaming, blinking Baby-Michel with him. Both landing on the floor, hard.

The cat fled immediately in the direction of the bed, hiding underneath. Meanwhile Bo was about to put coffee powder into the filter. Spoon in hand she reacted with the same panicked jump in the air, spreading the brown content of the box and spoon in hand all over herself and the floor and the counter top. Ironically nothing managed to get into the filter.

"You stupid caterwauler. Shut the hell up."

Eager and restless fingers tipped and brushed along the screen and the sound just wouldn't stop until she pushed the small button atop. Silence again.

"Okay, I have to find out how to stop that!"

Looking back at the mess all around her kitchen she could only hope, that the day would get better from here on.

It hadn't gotten better from then on. Not only had Bo been prohibited from getting just one cup of caffeine-containing liquids, preferred in form of hot steaming milky coffee in the morning, although she had been accustomed to drinking at least three to get her brain into anything like working mode, no, she slipped on her way to get changed on one of Bane's toys and landed on her butt painfully.

If that hadn't been enough, the brunette received the monthly bills, when she climbed the stairs down like some stork on high heels walking on sand because of the aching pain in her backside, all the way to her mailbox. Unfortunately, the money she had earned with her last job went into her working suits, Bane's food, one buffalo mozzarella and a six pack of beer. She had checked her wallet. Emptiness wouldn't even describe that situation in the slightest.

That driver employment came at about the right time, but hadn't brought her nothing yet, but getting on her nerves while dealing with that outrageous, hot, ice queen of a boss. As if this statement wasn't confusing enough, it described the jolt of emotions and ups and downs of the mood she felt all the time while driving, watching or listening to the blonde to nearly one hundred percent.

So, thinking about the possibilities, it was either asking for an advance or living in the dark and without something to eat for the next week.

For every step back into her apartment she found a new curse. And after she went out of words half way up she had begun to mix already used invective with all kinds of comestible goods she hated with all her heart.

"Mother freaking- son of- an Alaska Pollock!"

The rest of the day made her believe it must have been Friday the thirteenth. Or that little Chihuahua she watched form her living room window must have been a costumed black cat coming from the wrong side, crossing the road (or Chihuahuas were replacing that black cat myth from now on). Or all of her mirrors must have been broken at once. Although she owned only one and it was hanging on the wall above her sink with that small cut it had since Bo had found it at a garage peddler's market some time ago.

This Saturday surely wasn't her favorite at all. A pain in the ass, _literally._

Her left forefinger was wrapped in a piece of gauze by midday, because she cut herself with the paper from the envelope of one of her bills she opened up. She knocked her left big toe on the corner of her kitchen counter and stumbled backwards into the small table next to her door where her keys were placed and a small cactus tried to grow. All landed on the floor when Bo tried to get a hold on anything in an effort to not fall down yet again.

Good thing she hadn't spilled salt. She once heard a saying that spilling salt meant a baby was on its way.

Her mind went through her front door downstairs and watched the Jeffersons pampering and cleaning smear off of nearly all the surfaces. Thanks, but no thanks. Fighting against cat hair on her clothes and those neatly arranged cat vomit from time to time was more than enough taking care at once.

Today was without beating about the bush, an off-day.

She decided to sit down on her couch, to stare a bit at that beautiful wall and outside the window in the blue sky. Better sit than hurt herself more than she already had.

How was she supposed to survive this day? And why was she that clumsy? She normally wasn't lubberly at all.

And today, of all days, she had to drive that beast of a Hummer with that Lewis-Boss and her date. She wasn't one to whine about life, but right about now she felt like self-pitying. And that all without chips and beer and that music she had dreamed of. Garbage!

Good thing she had to get going within the next hour. Days went by fast when you were preoccupied with staying alive.

The clock in the complex armature of the dashboard showed five fifty pm when she maneuvered the huge car into parking position in front of Mademoiselle Lewis Maison. French never made a home in her brain as much as she had tried back in school, but some words slipped out of the bowl here and there.

At least she could ask for, where 'le château' was, although she wouldn't understand the answer, but whatever. It's the fact that she could say it that mattered.

She thought of French as a pretty adorable way to pronounce even non-French words. Sometimes she thought she was a bit crazy, too.

Sitting on her bruised butt, trying to find the right angle to step out with that constant pain staying at a minimum, someone opened the driver's door.

"Bo, good evening. I thought today is your day off?"

Bo looked up to find Bob standing in front of her. Great choice of words. Day off, off-day, nearly the same.

"Hey, Bob. Yes, that's what I thought, too", she leaned in to whisper, "but little Miss Sunshine up there, wants me to chauffeur her and some poor prey around town. So, gone is all the spare time. What ever that may be, huh? You do work all day, every day, or..."

Bob rushed back to the entrance without an answer but a nod of his head in said direction and a wave of his hand meant for Bo to follow him.

With a sigh, she took her hat and walked up around the car, rubbing her butt along the way, staring at the ground to watch every single step, she wouldn't let herself stumble and fall again this evening.

"Bob, you could have answered before you..." The brunette stopped dead in tracks and mid sentence when a pair of feet in heeled sandals crossed the path her eyes were glued on. Slowly she scanned the view and traveled up two silk like shanks, to well proportioned knees. The hem of a black dress forced her to gulp.

Her eyes fell upon toned feminine forms, unbelievable soft looking skin of cleavage and bare shoulders, over golden curled tresses to stop on that fascinating, gorgeous face of...

"You're staring, Driver."

She tried really hard to swallow that mixture of lust and longing down her dry throat. Really hard. Her eyes never once leaving the glimmering orbs of her Boss. Maybe just once, because that pendant on the necklace laying shortly above the swell of the blondes boobs looked interesting and Bo needed to rethink and gather her thoughts but got distracted somehow because of that small gap between a pair of perfect breasts. When she opened her mouth to respond something, anything smarter than utter bosh, her lips formed one word.

"Wow."

The blonde passed her and got seated in the back of the car, waiting with a knock on the window and pointing to the steeling wheel.

"Bo, get going!"

Bob hissed quietly.

"Huh?"

Bo turned around and for a second she forgot all about that bullshit of a morning and afternoon by watching beauty in its purest form in her car. The Driver's right leg rushed forward without prior signal to the rest of her body and so she tripped, for the second time today, forward and thankfully got a hold on the roof of the Hummer but knocked her head on the window.

"Damn mother f..."

Looking up her eyes met light brown ones through the glass. Yes of course she must have made a complete stammering, floundering putz out of herself on this very Saturday. She once heard a kid from middle school speaking Yiddish and knew this word meant what it meant to call someone being a jerk, unless they were talking about genitals, then it meant something absolutely different. Anyhow, again she locked gazes with what should be called the enemy. She had to learn to control herself better because fighting against was the last thought in her mind, and the only innocent one.

Shaking her head and adjusting her hat she went around the car and climbed into pilot-mode. Embarrassment was best ignored by pushing and pulling various buttons, even if she touched them three or four times. Radio on, off, on and off again. That useless cap holder made an appearance about twice, the air condition started on the highest level to blow into Bo's face so she had to blink the stinging tears away and was about to loose her hat when a voice spoke up.

"Driver?"

Bo, lost in thoughts, heard her name out of the distance and turned her head to find herself back in full on-boobs view. A cough brought her eyes back up.

"My eyes are up here, and I think you should ask me, where to head to, Driver?"

The brunettes cheeks burned. Buttons, she needed more buttons. And air, definitely more are. And maybe a new job by the end of the night, when she wouldn't be able to control her limbs to steer the car any time soon.

"Yes, of- of course. Where would you want me to drive to, Ms Lewis- Sir. Uh- Ma'am!"

Gosh.

If her blood pressure hadn't been so high that she thought a drum was living in her auditory canal, she would have sworn she had heard a chuckle. But she must have been wrong. We were talking about this prodigy of body control sitting in the back seats. Bo was told once, those people never did such things as chuckling.

"We have to meet my colleague at the airport. He is going to stay in town for the night and has to leave early tomorrow morning."

Oh that came in handy. So the rules for a passionate night were clear and no one had to suffer through those 'yes, it was nice, let's not have breakfast' phrases and excuses. Bo was living in a complex and fragile ecosystem of getting laid without letting that person into her home and the rule to never doing the horizontal with that someone twice. Sleeping in wasn't her thing and she made her intentions pretty clear within the first ten minutes of chitchatting.

"Sure, be there before you could say the words Baba Yaga."

Turning back into her cockpit Bo blinked and held her forefinger up, lightly swirling it in thoughts, "But hm- maybe don't try to say those words. Especially not in front of a mirror with.."

"Driver?"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"The airport please."

"Yes Ma'am!"

The drive to the airport went quite well. Bo dragged herself to not look in the back mirror and kept all her senses focused on the street in front of her. Traffic was smooth and within thirty minutes she pulled the gear shift into parking at their destination.

The brunette stopped the engine and climbed off of her black horse. At least her butt reminded her of riding in a saddle for too long. She walked around to where the blonde was seated and opened the door. Stepping back, Bo didn't dare to look up as her Boss walked gracefully up the path to the glass doors of the entrance. Distracted by the scent of perfume Bo had to shut her eyes for a moment. Waiting for the blonde to come back.

When she heard foot steps and voices she finally looked up.

"Yes, my dear it is so good to see you again. And you look", a whistle caught Bo's attention. "I might call it juicy, Lauren!"

Lauren? Lauren Lewis. Oh.

Bo's thoughts were cut short when she watched the man walking up with her Boss on his arm, grabbing the blonde's hand with small sausage fingers, which laid on his forearm.

Urgh, her Boss had quite an flamboyant taste where sex partners were concerned. He was short, barely up to the blonde's shoulder, which was covered in golden locks. Bo became a sucker for those tresses.

Looking back to that smurf next to the taller woman, Bo scrunched her nose in disgust. He wore one of those big, round horn-rimmed glasses that made him look like her biology professor back in high school. She didn't like her teacher and she bottled this deep feeling of dislike to shake it hard and open the flask to splash her disapproval all over that- blighter.

His hair was non existent on his head and the rolls of too much scalp dominated the back of it.

On his chin and upper lip a bush, of what should have grown on that bowling ball on his shoulders, waved along with every word he spoke. He wore a black suit, which fitted a bit tighter than it should around is bulky form with a dark green, long scarf.

Bo's eyes flew over his face. There was something in the way he looked at her Boss, that made her guts make loops and her still empty stomach content boiled, she could almost taste its juice on her tongue. He patted the blonde's hand and it seemed as if he searched for every opportunity to touch her.

The clearing of her Boss' throat draw the attention of the brunette back to that beautiful woman who was standing right next to her. Somehow she had managed to get out of the snob's grip.

Bo saw something in those whiskey golden orbs she couldn't place and had never spotted before. Humiliation? Bashfulness? But it was gone shortly after this Lauren Lewis, standing straight up, addressed Bo.

"Driver? Would you please escort Doctor Scott and me to this restaurant?"

Her Boss held out a small sheet of paper in hand. Bo reached for it and when she brushed accidentally along the soft skin of the other woman's hand, her breath got stuck in her throat. Looking up, she met those deep light brown eyes. The moment grew thick with every passing second and when that tiny man spoke up, the brunette pulled her hand back and looked away fast.

"Oh, Lauren. For you, it is Harry. And now chop chop, Driver, we have a table waiting for us at seven."

Bo forced a polite smile and even that was exhausting, because her whole body screamed in disgust.

Holding the door, the blonde entered after this Harry guy, not once looking at Bo.

The brunette walked around the car.

"For you, it's Harry. Chop chop. Who does he think he is?" murmuring all the way to the driver seat, Bo inhaled a last deep and soothing breath and climbed behind the wheel. Self-control, she had to restrain herself.

All the way to the restaurant this roll-scalped man was talking to no end, about his work, which sounded pretty boring to Bo. Something about calibrating machines, which produced computer chips. Every now and then he would spit some creepy phrase about several parts of Lauren's body he almost drooled on. Compliments weren't his strong point. The brunette had a hard time trying not to snore or burst out in laughter.

Bo tuned on and off the conversation. But every time she watched the blonde in the back mirror she could see her lousy try to put some space between him and herself. Once in a while their eyes met, but Bo couldn't decipher any emotion or what was going on inside that beautiful head of hers.

They arrived at the restaurant in time and her Boss told her to wait for them to get back. When she was alone a long sigh filled the now silent cabin of the big Hummer. Turning on the radio, Bo got rid of the thought, that this date was to get into someone's pants. But why would that powerful and brilliant woman, so much as _look_ at some Gremlin like Harry? The blonde had to be careful to not feed him after midnight. On second thoughts, he should eat and get water all over him. Little shmuck.

Singing along an old Backstreet Boys song Bo closed her eyes. Her head rested on the steeling wheel, while her hands drummed the rhythm of the song on the dashboard. The chorus played and the brunette lifted her head to shout out loud and shook her head to the beat. Opening her eyes she found two amused brown eyes staring back at her in the back mirror.

Shocked, she squeaked once. Turning around, her Boss was sitting in the back seat staring back at her. A small smile tucking on the corner of her lips.

"You missed your vocation."

Swallowing, Bo tried to calm her beating heart.

"Gosh, you scared the hell out of me. For- for how long have you been sitting there?"

"Oh uhm- let's say I could watch a pro in their natural environment. After your voice warmed up the first few chords, you really knocked it out of the park."

"Ohh boy..."

Bo's face probably illumined the whole block.

"I didn't hear you get in, I'm- I'm sorry Ma'am, I..."

"It's okay."

Bo pushed the button to turn the radio off. Silence surrounded them. The clock blinked nine pm. The brunette hadn't been aware that she was sitting there for about two hours.

"Wh- Where is this- guy... Scott was it?"

"Yes, he wanted to get something to drink at the bar and maybe that little bartender for dessert."

Scrunching her nose again, Bo wanted to get rid of those Polaroid pictures in her head of that walrus in action. Sometimes she hated her imagination skills.

"So, uhm, where should I drive to now? Get you ho-"

The hunger scream of the brunette's stomach could be heard to the moon and back.

"Did you not eat?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Uhm- no?"

"Why didn't you eat?"

Bo turned back to the front and let the engine rev to distract the ongoing growling of her lower body parts.

"So, where to Ma'am?"

"Driver?!"

The blondes voice fell back in that soft but demanding pattern. Sighing the motor cut the noises with one twist of the key in the ignition.

"Okay, here is the thing."

Bo shifted in her seat and faced her Boss again. That Lauren Lewis watched her with some kind of interest that was new to the brunette.

"When I said, that I really needed this job, I meant, that I really _really_ need this job. I- I ran a bit short of money this week. So, unfortunately the supermarket wouldn't take the coupons from last year or those paper clips holding them together. My speech of how eight hundred million people in the world suffer because of hunger in hopes that this cashier could help to reduce that number to seven hundred ninety nine million by bestowing the groceries in my cart on me- didn't work. Mankind is so fu- what are you doing?."

The blonde listened. Midway through Bo's speech, her Boss' hand fumbled inside her purse to reveal her checkbook. Scribbling something that looked like hieroglyphs reading upside down in black ink. Bo liked black ink. That woman had taste.

Holding out the piece of paper, Bo didn't know how to react.

"Take it. It's yours anyway. Why didn't you tell me?"

"How was I supposed to tell you that I needed money? I've worked for you for a week now. It's not my place to ask something like that."

"So, you prefer starving?"

"No, I actually love eating and I try to do it on a daily basis, but, yeah- not at the moment."

The check still holding in her outstretched hand, the blonde took Bo's hand in hers and placed the abrasive paper on her flat palm, closing her fingers together with Bo's into a fist. Flabbergasted the brunette looked up.

"Take it. Think of it as a bonus for working on your day off."

There was something very gentle the way her Boss locked eyes with her and their skin touched. It made Bo feel different kind of things. Things she had to work through to put a finer point on the meaning of them all.

"Thank you."

The blonde let go of Bo and leaned back. Thinking about, where she could get the check cashed at this late hour, she took a closer look, Bo's breath hitched.

"Miss Lewis that is way too much, I-"

"Driver?"

Bo looked back up.

"Yes Ma'am?"

"I want to go home, please."

"Yes Ma'am."


	4. Chapter 4

**The next chapter is up and I want you to know that I so love all your comments via either the review button or PM or Twitter. Thank you so much. I hope you enjoy this one, too, and well, let me know what you think ;)**

 **Thanks to Em. You are too kind!**

 **I do not own anything, but I love to play with the characters of Lost Girl. (soooo much)**

Chapter 4

It didn't take much time for the brunette to come up with a name for that smart-shit. Her mind was a good oiled working machine of cleverness. The train of thoughts leaving Logic-Alley located in her left brain half, across Corpus-Callomus-Drive, to Creativity-Town in her right brain half and all the way back to Speech-Ville to come up with a new nickname.

It's called brainstorming. And she knew, she was hella good at it.

Starting with Phony-Call, but sounded too much of a love-love relationship, to Smartacus, that simply didn't work out, because she refused to call this yelling bitch anything but what it was: a stupid alarm equipment. And she just used Speak-Bone once, when Bane looked up in shock from his resting place.

Bone? Bane? Never mind.

Maybe these candy canes of borderline ingeniousness were caused by all those minerals and nutrients running through her veins again, after ravishing a Caesar's Salad, two slices of garlic bread and a Lasagna from Alfredo, the Italian take away restaurant two blocks away.

She even had three donuts with really beautiful colors from that little bakery she loved most for dessert, 'cause the truth was, regardless how stuffed her stomach felt and how much it begged for mercy and to stop that permanent padding of her innermost part, it wasn't a real meal unless there were some white sugar monsters waiting to be swallowed for nightcap.

To top off this feast, the brunette popped open a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. White wine went awesomely well with donuts.

It was either that or the small gasp between being sated and the light headed feeling before falling into food coma that came up with this unimaginable distinguished accomplishment of a brainwave.

It took her all about ten minutes of thinking or almost drifting into a deep slumber before her mind cycled around cellphones in general and came up with Celly, which led her to Sally that floozy in high school, who broke her newest strap on during their make out session.

'Till this day, Bo was still wondering how the chick's choppy and jerky moves managed to break a gummy phallus in a leather bolt. Anyways, Celly turned into Sally and the brunette had a jackpot.

They had some kind of silent agreement, Sally and Bo.

Bo just couldn't bring herself to read the instruction manual Sally brought with her. Manuals were for those safety-fanatics too afraid to break things and not for adrenaline junkies like Bo -high voltage- Dennis. But to be honest, she had forgotten all about the shrieking personality of the small Canadian's Next Top Terror Machine. That atrocious pain in her ear forced her to get up at six on Sunday and yet again on Monday morning. So without further discussion they had come up with this arrangement of 'you don't hurt me I don't hurt you'.

Sally would scream for attention in the mornings and Bo would stand up to put her in one of the top drawer of the kitchen counter, wrapped in a dishtowel, waiting for the orchestra of Rocky Horror Picture Show to fade away.

Yes, she knew, brilliant, right?

The week started and ended in a snap of a finger and Bo had to admit that this waking up early wasn't that bad. Now that she could actually eat breakfast, watch the sun rise and read the newspaper she had stolen from Mister Douchebag's doormat, knowing he wouldn't find out as long as she replaced it at seven with a large brown spot of her coffee mug on the front page, right on top of the short sports news he loved so much. Sometimes that little demon inside of her came out to play. And she loved it.

Preposterous to common sense, a weird thrill of anticipation lingered in her belly since that Saturday night. The brunette felt that unusual pull to get to work. She always had been dutiful and had done both school and work consciously, but for some reason which just didn't make any sense at all, Bo was eager to please her Lady-Boss. This time not only to keep the job but because she wanted to see that look in her eyes again.

Friday came and went and another long day of driving from meetings, to drugstores, over Organiacs, the coffee and tea house Miss Lewis bought her caffeine shots to get through the workload, back to Godzilla (That's what Bo had dubbed the enormous apartment building the blonde lived in.)

It was either Godzilla or King Kong, and this Lauren Lewis as the girl in the ape's hands. She had thought about it and reconsidered a few times and had come up with the opinion, ape hands were a no go.

Lauren Lewis.

Somehow the feel of the blondes name on her tongue made her want to say it all the time or at least mouth it every now and then. It would have been awkward, if the Driver had addressed the blonde in the back all day long, only to satisfy this weird longing to roll her tongue around those two words. Not to mention, that she would have run out of excuses at some point.

When the brunette arrived at work on Monday, she didn't know what to expect. After that uncharacteristic behavior from the blonde, Bo had thought a lot about the possibilities and where they might lead them. She had almost filled her whole Sunday balancing arguments-the pros and cons of getting into something more than a working relationship.

But she hadn't thought about her Boss being that uncrowned ice queen all over again. She had thought they were over that. Apparently not. Miss 'no music, no air condition, no small talk' Lewis was back and at her best. But unfortunately, Bo was even more turned on about being bossed around than ever before.

On Tuesday, she considered buying some new panties while bossy Lauren was at one of her meetings, but found she should just calm down a bit and instead bought crushed ice to place it between the seat and her back. She ended up shivering like hell with teeth cluttering and all. If the blonde got any of that she didn't let it show.

On Thursday Bo felt like an army of ants were dancing the Polka along her inner thighs and the sweat forming along her forehead, down to her chest, dripping off her belly to settle between her legs made her wonder, when the heck she had pushed that damn button for the seat heater only to find it turned off.

The whole week concentration had been some kind of an alien. Or a foreign language. Something she obviously couldn't conceive as long as there was this Lewis-Woman sitting head placed on the headrest, mouth lightly ajar, throat stretched and her chest heaving rhythmically to the calm breathing in the back of her 320 PS strong black fine specimen of womanhood.

She had heard about a friend, well not a friend- _friend,_ just someone she sometimes met in the bar she went to every now and then. Anyways, that someone heard of a friend, who had been told that an acquaintance had suffered of severe concentration disorder.

He had lost track of time and space and in the end, hadn't realized that he had been walking on the roof of his office building as he tried to read a file in hand. He only realized he had stepped into thin air when he was already falling down twenty floors to find a deeper connection with the hard concrete.

Not a beautiful picture for the next Christmas greeting card.

By Friday evening Bo was more aware of her sexuality than she had ever been before. All week long she had been hot and bothered and couldn't do anything about it. It scared the freaking nun out of her, because again that friend of a friend had heard of someone who couldn't get down with business and after weeks of sexual tension with the frustration of not obtaining satisfaction, they imploded.

Bo knew that this wasn't even possible, but in her situation, she had to be careful. No need to mess with powers she didn't know anything about.

Or she should stop listening to that old, shabby guy, who looked like he lived on that bar stool and his hand were glued on that bottle of whiskey.

Bo got home around eight this Friday evening. Bane was waiting for her on the kitchen counter, tail in the air and greeted the tensed brunette with a crumbled meow.

"Hey Bane, buddy. At least someone is happy to see me."

Tossing her blazer on the back of the couch and throwing her shoes across the room, she patted his scrubby head.

"You're hungry?"

Another meow followed by a soft purr as Bo scratched the back of his left ear. With heavy steps she entered the kitchen and filled the cat's bowl with kibble. Tuna taste.

"Urgh. Great. Now I know why I smelled like a fish market the last couple of nights. You are not allowed to sleep next to my head as long as there is any kind of sea-animals on your menu, understood?"

Pointing a finger at her pet, which strolled along her legs as she placed the bowl next to the fridge.

Fish. Slimy, slippery, smelly kids of Poseidon. Who would eat something that breathed through gills and had a look as if they would die of a heart-attack any second?

When she was young her father took her with him. Every third Sunday. Angling rod in one hand and living bait in the other. From the first time she had to cut open and disembowel those scaly marina animals, she had known she hated fishing. From the bottom of her heart. Looking at the guts of the dead spotted bass swimming in that small bowl filled with dirty water, Bo had puked on her father's favorites gumboots.

She sighed by the memories of those expeditions. Worst part wasn't even the act of cleaning the fish but eating them back at home. She was forced to. All the time. One Sunday evening she had sat in front of her plate until midnight, picking at her dinner, her father leaning against the door frame behind her.

 _"Take your time, Ysabeau. I have all night."_

Her mother tried to talk him out of it, more than once and he yelled for her to shut the fuck up. Saying, his daughter would do as she was told. Her throat just refused to swallow anymore on that Sunday night at eleven thirty, when his hand connected with her mother's cheek for the first time.

Her eyes glued on the picture of her mother on the book shelf, her thoughts a thousand miles away. The ringing of Sally brought her mind back. Fiddling on her left pocket of her pants, she got hold on the phone. Pushing the front button the screen lit up. A short message.

"Okay, what did Yvonne say? Push button, insert code and tip on the message."

The screen changed colors, when the pop up opened to reveal the electronic letter.

 _Change in schedule. Sunday at eight pm. My apartment. Lewis_

"Great."

As soon as she read the words, all pictures she avoided to think about the whole damn way back home, rushed through her brain right down to the valley where her pleasure-point throbbed for the last, how many hours did the week have? Well, _a lot_ of hours!

"Okay, I need to do something, anything. I need to get laid."

It was still early and she hadn't been around town at night for an eternity. She craved for loud music, a lot of booze and some skin on skin. Maybe some fingers and tongue, too. Depends on the choices of products in the place she would be heading to.

The cold water of her shower made her breath hitch. Ernst didn't repair anything and it was about two weeks ago that she had to suffer through this encounter. She needed to take care of that, too. But not tonight. Casanernst could wait.

Stepping in front of her closet an hour later she eyed herself up. Black leather pants, dark red leather corsage and black heeled, knee high leather boots, her favorites. She loved that Xena-Look on herself. It made her feel like riding a war horse, whip waving above her head and yelling for Gabrielle, sitting behind her, to hold on tight.

She felt like a warrior princess.

She felt like Lucy fucking Lawless and the name includes -without limitation- how the brunette would behave tonight.

Her hair in a ponytail high on her head, with a bigger strand of hair backcombed and adjusted atop like a rocker quiff. And boy, she'd so rock that club. Her makeup heavy around her deep brown orbs. She loved those smoky-eyes, she felt a bit naughty, too.

It got her horny just to think about the endless opportunities coming with that outfit. Sometimes it was awesome to be Bo Dennis. She would definitely make out with herself. No she never tried, not once. Okay maybe once, but she had been kind of stoned and who would have known that the hotness waving back at the brunette was her own reflection in a mirrored door and she didn't want to be reminded of that story now.

She grabbed for some cash and popped it into her bra. Her keys found a place in her left boot, next to her ID card. A new peach lip-gloss hid in her right front pocket. All a girl needed. She didn't do bags. She had a tendency to either forget where she had put them before heading off on the dance floor or she had been drinking enough to simply not care about anything anymore.

One final look over in the mirror in her bathroom before she headed down the stairs.

Around ten pm she entered that bar a few streets away. She decided to walk as it wasn't far off and there was some kind of magic in the air. Bo hadn't felt that good and sexy in a long time.

The bar was crowded as always. The brunette had found that hell's kitchen a few days after moving in. She had been in desperate need of distraction after that first job at that dog parlor. Her finger had hurt like shit and that injection had burnt throughout her left biceps.

This place smelled like sex. Well, more like sweat and cigarette smoke, but it was dim lighted, full of bodies grinding against each other and alcohol, in the form of shots and cocktails, flooding out of the bartender's deft hands.

Perfect and just what she needed.

She moved to the corner she had marked as her own a few months back. On that day her whole body had ached because of that stunt with her Wiener-Costume and she was on the best way of getting mindlessly drunk when she had carved her initials into the thick wooden tabletop with a piece of a broken shot glass she had found under the stool she had been sitting on.

On her way she got checked out by at least three guys, one of them was already tongue deep down a redhead's mouth, and a chick, who cheered with a bottle of root beer. She didn't need to be a Succubus to track down all this sexual energies in this room. This night screamed of passionate itch scratching.

Time passed by like an eagle in vertical flight to catch that mouse on the muddy ground of a cow pasture. A really old eagle. With arthrosis and a blind left eye. The clock on the back of the bar told her, that she had only been there one and a half hour.

Bo was way into her fourth beer and had drown at least three shots. She even danced with that really juicy blonde who was all over her until a more than wasted and long forgotten boyfriend joined the two, grabbing at Bo's rack without asking for permission. So she stepped on his right big toe with one of her heels. He didn't even as much as flinch, that's how drunk he had been. He would have fun in the morning though.

Bo had thought, she would have had a tongue in her throat by now. But she hadn't, and that sucked. Well, it didn't and that was about the point.

"What does a girl have to do to get some TLC?"

Frustrated she step up to the bar to order one of the bartender's best cocktails. Maybe she hadn't had skin on skin or that tongue in throat thing yet, but at least she'd get some Sex on the Beach.

All she hoped for, was that she hadn't lost her touch or that these past months of living on the edge, jobwise, wasn't showing all over her face.

There was this smiling brunette next to her. Blue eyes telling Bo to get her inner tiger out for some hunting. Leaning forward to whisper into that hottie's ear over the pounding bass of the next song the crowed hollered to, her eyes spotted a familiar face at the other end of the room in a corner booth.

"What the _hell_?"

"What?"

The girl looked at Bo questioningly.

"No, no, not you."

Bo shook her head and forced her eyes to look back at the prey in front of her, smiling weakly.

"Hi, I- I'm Bo."

Extending her hand she looked back to the booth. Sitting there, obviously more than ready to get home an hour ago, was her Boss. Next to her a dark haired guy. A bit too close for Bo's liking and his right arm dragged over the blonde's shoulder. The way her Boss' head fell down every now and then and those fumbling fingers of that animal roaming all over her body, with eyes sharp on its target, it just made the brunette's guts twist in dislike.

"I'm..."

Bo walked away, leaving the girl astonished and her drink untouched at the bar. Her senses fixed on the scene in the corner she had seen more than once. He, ordering drink after drink until she is all willing and too far gone to booze-island to realize anything going on around her.

A few feet in front of the table, where her Boss had just knocked over her half empty whiskey glass, Bo stopped and shook her head in disbelieve.

"She is a grown up woman, she can take care of herself! Just go. Get back to- whoever that girl was and get your way with her."

One last look, observing the interaction of the two, watching that sleazeball trying to capture the blonde's lips but failing because she couldn't hold up her seemingly heavy head on her own.

Bo turned around. Telling herself to leave again. Rolling her eyes up at the ceiling, she sighed.

Why, in all bars of the town, did her Boss have to visit this one?

And why, for all the sake of booze intoxicated women on this goddamn planet, did she have to be the one now sitting in that booth?

And why, in bloody hell, did she have to decide to put her layers of the incredible ice queen down tonight, of all nights?

"Gosh, what am I doing?"

Bo spun back around.

"And since when am I the protector? Since when am I freaking Mother Theresa?"

Walking up she stopped right in front of the right side of the hyena, tipping on his shoulder.

"I am kinda busy here!"

He wouldn't even look at her as he continued to drool all over the blonde trapped in his embrace.

"Yeah, I can see that!"

He turned to face Bo and his look, hooded from a lot of alcohol in his own system, lit up as he scanned the brunette's leather clad form.

"Oh, hey cutie. You wanna join us? We're having a lovely little party going on and were just about to get into a place more private."

Seriously?

"No thanks, and she won't either!"

Bo pointed to the blonde, head resting against the wall, eyes closed, breathing heavily.

"What? I payed a lot to get her like that..."

Okay, Bo tried that counting thing. She was half way to ten or a seventh to ten. She really was. But listening to that pig head and hearing that he filled the blonde up on purpose just tickled the wrong spot and something snapped in her brain all the way to her fist.

He was holding his nose, throwing mindless curses in the brunette's direction, who already got to her Boss' side and helped her up. The blonde wasn't fully awake anymore and leaned heavy against Bo's body. In a weird way and totally out of place a familiar sensation spread through her lower parts.

"Great!"

"Dri-er?"

The blonde's eyes tried to lock with Bo's but failed.

"Yeah, hi, it's me!"

"Wha- ya doing here?"

Bo had to adjust her hold on her Boss as she was gliding down the brunette's side. Wrapping her arms more firmly across the tired form of the woman, whose feeble attempt to keep standing upright seemed to take great effort. Slowly Bo started walking towards the exit, leaving the sobbing man behind. His nose wasn't even bleeding, pussy.

"Let's get you out of here, shall we?"

On her way out, Bo ordered a bottle of water. The blonde managed to throw one arm around Bo's shoulder and steadied herself a bit more.

Outside, the loud music faded away when the door closed behind them. Across the street, a line of cabs were waiting for their next passenger.

"Thank God!"

Placing the blonde inside, Bo climbed next to her on the backseat and found herself pulled into a tight embrace as soon as she shut the door behind her. The blonde almost cradled her, pushing hard into her left side. Entangling her left arm, the brunette placed it around the almost sleeping form next to her.

"Yeah, damn protector, I am!"

Feeling a pair of eyes on her, she looked up, to find the cab driver staring at them through the back mirror.

"What?", the brunette snapped, "never seen a drunk woman?"

"Yes, but I need the address."

"Oh."

When the cab drove off, Bo tightened her grip as the blonde's head slipped from the brunette's shoulder into the crook of her neck. Hot breath tickled the soft skin underneath her chin. Absentmindedly Bo turned her head slightly and inhaled the scent of the blonde tresses. A warm hand was sneaking along her belly to rest upon her right hipbone while the other was laying on the upper half of her thigh, drawing small circle with lazy fingertips.

"Oh boy."

There it was again. This sweating. Bo had to suffer through the whole week bathed in her own body liquids. She had even considered to ask a doctor whether there was any dysfunction going on inside her sweat glands. That wasn't normal at all.

With her Boss close and her scent and warm body all over her, Bo got lost inside the feelings coming up.

"Warrior Princess, laughing the fuck out loud!"

"We're here, Miss."

She paid the cab driver and tried to slide herself out of this nutshell of warmth and soft skin and scents of perfume, shampoo and whiskey.

"Miss Lewis."

Bo tried to wake the sleeping beauty up, but she cuddled even more into the brunette's side.

"Miss- oh God!"

The blonde's hands magically found a way underneath the tight texture of red leather and brushed along the brunette's stomach.

"Okay, you have-", Bo gulped hard when she felt the blonde's nose caressing the soft skin underneath her left ear.

"Miss, Miss Lewis. C'mon!"

How to calm down. That wasn't the brunette's strong point. So she knew out of the latest experience that counting wouldn't work at all. Maybe slapping? But she wasn't in any position to get her hands high enough to come anywhere near her own face. What if...

A loud honk startled both women and when Bo's eyes fell on the cab driver in the front, she saw a big grin on his lips.

"You can thank me some other time, child."

Bo nodded. They climbed out of the back and her Boss almost fell. Holding onto the blonde, Bo maneuvered them along the front to the side alley. She thought, that her Boss might be embarrassed enough the next day without the gossip of the rest of the stuff working in the lobby.

The alley was dark and the only light was coming from the full moon shining bright.

Full moon. That explained a lot. Crazy things happened when the moon showed off his whole backside. Like sleepless nights, because Misses Meier, or better said Fräulein Meier -she insisted-, the seventy three year old, German and slightly crazy lady, living in the apartment right underneath the brunette's, used to sing all songs of ABBA with her window open wide while dancing on her coffee table, naked.

Bo saw her. The first week she had moved in. All she wanted to do was, ask if this Fräulein-Granny could be less loud. But as she pushed the unlocked front door open, because no one answered her after what felt like- whatever, the things she saw, destroyed her picture of the world.

Both women shrieked, then yelled at each other to stop dancing and stop staring and to cover those low hanging bits and to get out and so Bo ran away and fell halfway up the stairs. She tried to wash her eyes and to get rid of the painful images of old flesh dangling in the air, but those were glued to her retina.

Since then, she checked her skin elasticity and the gravity of her boobs after every bath she took.

She hadn't met a lot German dudes and after that- disaster, she didn't intended to. Maybe Germans were all a bunch of wackos. Maybe it was some socio-cultural thing, this full moon ABBA singing slash naked bits wiggling stuff. Or maybe, Germany told granny-penny to dance the heck off.

For some uncalled reasons Bo would never ever look at these dogs, Shar-Pei, like the way she once had. She had seen Shar-Peis at the dog parlor. Even had to clean all those wrinkles. Fräulein Meier looked very much alike.

"Whe- we goin?"

"Huh?"

Bo looked down at the woman in her arms. She seemed more fragile and so very unlike the uptight person the brunette got to know so well.

"The back door."

Bo nodded to the entrance, abandoned of any eyes and ears.

"Give me your keys."

When she received no response Bo stopped and looked at the blonde, who was thinking hard, eyes in tight slits, lips pouted and forefinger tipping on her chin.

"Miss Lewis? The keys to the back door."

"I don't have any."

"Say that again."

"I said..."

"I heard you."

"But you told me to..."

"Yes, I know, that was rhetorically speaking."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

Bo was looking around, when a forefinger came into sight. Blinking twice, Bo watched the finger flex a few times in front of her eyes.

"I don't have keys. I have thissssss."

The forefinger poked at Bo's cheek and chin and nose and back to her chin. A giggling blonde as background music. The brunette sighed and took a hold on the dancing hand, several fingers were now poking and brushing along her face.

"Okay, okay, stop it. Miss, argh, the heck, Lauren! Lauren look at me!"

Bo turned her body to completely face her Boss. Placing her hands on either side of the blonde's face, locking gazes. Watching as the amused look on her Boss' features turned into a more serious one.

"Your fingers won't open this door, okay. We need a key. So if you don't have a key, it is either the way through the lobby with all the service stuff watching your drunken state or my place. Your choice."

The heavy scent of whiskey breathed upon the brunette's face, hot and spicy. She could literally see the wheels turning in the woman's head in front of her. Tired eyes glancing back at her. Warm hands came up to cover her own ones still holding on to her Boss. The air grew thick and it got harder and harder to inhale the sweet perfume and unique smell of the intoxicated, but still gorgeous woman with those unbelievable soft strands of golden hair, Bo hadn't even dreamed of laying her fingers upon, ever.

Swallowing hard Bo's eyes ever so often lost track and moved to those beautiful lips. The tip of the blondes tongue slid along her bottom one, leaving a wet shimmer. So inviting.

"Your place please."


	5. Chapter 5

**Next one up. Thanks for the support! You all make this writing-thing so much more fun! Keep throwing those reviews and comments and tweets and retweets my way. I love them damn mucho mas!**

 **Thanks to FreeingTheWriterWithin for her fast work and help all over again ;)**

 **I don't own Lost Girl.**

Chapter 5

Maybe she should obtain the copyright of the words 'hot' and 'bothered', because the more she thought about her common state or the state she had found herself in for the last couple of days, the clearer she was about the fact, that nothing was clear at all anymore.

Because right about now it left her feeling _really_ hot and bothered. With her Boss pressed up against herself, walking side by side, while they made their way the four remaining blocks back to the brunette's apartment, Bo tried her best to maintain control over the boiling heat seething within her chest.

They had to move slowly because with every step of the blonde's feet, she trembled on wobbly legs.

Bo had her right arm wrapped around the stumbling woman's waist, with a firm grip on her hipbone and her left hand holding onto the leather-clad forearm of Drunken-Lauren-Lewis, which embraced the brunette's front to lay lazily along the brunette's belly.

Her Boss' other arm was lingering equally loose around Bo's hip, but her thumb had mystically sneaked a path between her waistband and somehow caressed the brunette's perfect nakedness underneath. Hard nail meeting with the soft skin of Bo's side. She hadn't had enough of the intoxicating liquid back at the bar to not get horny over that tangling of limbs. Although walking like a knot, some cub-scout would have done a better job of, was a challenge itself.

She had once been a scout too, but got kicked out after her first house-to-house canvass. It wasn't her fault that this huge, fat glutton tried to fool her. He said he wanted three chocolate bars, grabbed four and just paid for two. As a scout it was her duty to jar his memory, by smacking his nose after stepping on his left big toe so that he leaned forward and fell on his beloved garden gremlin.

Damn smurf, with a damn pushcart, wearing a damn smirk.

The fresh air of the night blew gently across her heated skin and reddened face. Only seconds before they had been sitting in one of those cabs. Everything about that car, which parked in front of Godzilla, had been extraordinarily yucky. Bo could have sworn she even heard the giant's puffy laughter, when she had tried her best to place a, yet again, very sleepy blonde in the back of the car.

It must have looked like playing with those puppets fixed on a wooden plateau, and when you pushed the button underneath, its strings would loosen and the puppet would slump to the ground with jelly limps.

But much heavier.

And without strings.

But long golden hair all over faces and slippery leather and, well, it took her some time to adjust her Boss safely.

Behind the steering wheel sat this scruffy, scraggy guy. A gross and pug-ugly version of a human being, who had a lot in common with a lump-head, also known as Steatocranus casuarius.

Her father knew all the Latin designations, which sounded a lot like disgusting diseases or an immedicable illness, and she had been forced to study each and every single one of them.

" _It's important to know your enemy, Ysabeau."_

Enemy. Pff. They were talking about fish. Not Bill Black or Double B, short Dee Bee, which that tiny rat had called himself. He was the head of the 'Hedgehog-Rowdies' back in Kindergarten. Hedgehog was the name of one of the groups they apportioned the kids to. Double B had been the first guy ever who had gotten to know Bo's knee-in-balls-kick.

She had perfected that move over the years and she might have to thank Bill for that. Without his ass-boob-special-twist grip, the brunette surely hadn't cultivated the most effective self-defense technique ever seen to _man_ kind.

All in all, Dee Bee was a pain in the ass, literally.

All the groups were named after animals in that catholic institution. Bo had always wanted to be a bear, but those damn educators told her she looked more like a hedgehog, whatever that was supposed to mean. Pedagogues and especially catholic ones weren't to mess with.

She earned two strikes for that kick. Gretta, the group leader and education major, said something about Jesus and his cheeks, or hitting not only one but both, which had been pretty much what Bo did, but a bit lower, and the brunette couldn't quite understand a word or why she was the one to blame here.

Anyways, three strikes meant to clean the toilet, and Bo had already received two for throwing Lego at Carol that same week. That girl was pushing her luck with building a blockade of plushies around the play corner. Bo was just making a point, that the toys could be used by everyone.

At first she had tried the nice and 'pretty please with cream and cherry on top' way, but that chick just wouldn't listen, and Bo wouldn't have that! She had always been the voice for the voiceless. Especially when Bo's voice fell on deaf ears of some uptown, sassy, blue blooded, sponge-head of a girl.

So cleaning it was. For what it was worth, she could be sure about peeing in flawless hygienic surroundings. Their sloppy housekeeper could have learned a lot. In your face, Arabella!

Thinking about that three strikes part, the brunette didn't know about the number or the obsession people had with the word 'strike', but she felt herself reminisce to her time in Kindergarten, as she was only a far cry from three strikes again. As an adult. In a working relationship. Damn three strikes. She had never been good at holding back her sense of justice, and somehow she got herself knee deep in trouble without doing much to cause it.

Really. She was innocent! Most of the times.

Looking at that gum-chewing perch of a driver in the front seat of said cab, Bo thought he had the same bulgy forehead, like those slippery scales wearer and a pair of pop eyes peaking out of his face, a bit too far apart and a bit too close to the sides of his dandruff-y head, too.

He was watching the two of them with delight and Bo could even _smell_ fish and it clearly wasn't some ocean scented car refresher. But maybe it could also have been that old sandwich she had found at her feet, and almost stepped upon when she dropped into the backseat, next to the now sleeping blonde, who had herself all cuddled up to Bo's left side, the second the passenger door closed behind her.

"So, where to, my lovelies?" His gaze dropped to Bo's chest, when his tongue wet it sausage-like lips.

Definitely a lump-head. She hated fish even more after tonight. Who would have thought that was even possible?

After a bit more than fifteen minutes into the drive back to the brunette's place, Bo reached into her bra. First left, then right. They were gone. Not her boobs, they were still pretty much there, all bright and shiny, but the banknotes, her bra-cash. Gone. When she searched her left boot, ID: check, keys: check, but no money.

"Holy sh..."

The cab driver eyed Bo through the back mirror while she was trying to find the blonde's bra-cash instead. The brunette awkwardly shifted to hover over her Boss in an angle which allowed her to look right down the alley between the most perfect mounts she had ever seen. Skin begging to be touched. She could hear the pleading voices yelling something like 'do it' or maybe she just heard random voices, and in that case she should stop taking those dietary supplements pills instantly.

With her fingertips on the seam of the drunken Lewis' black lace bra, feeling the warmth coming from the sleeping beauty, Bo bit her bottom lip to keep herself from peeking further down. Her dark brown orbs flying over shirt, leather jacket, half naked bits, bare skin of cleavage, back to her fingers as she was carefully trying not to get lost in that smashing scent and magnificent sight in front of her.

"Wha- you doin'?"

Startled, Bo let go of her Boss' underwear, jumping back into the door frame she had been pressed up against the whole time, because of that teasing-canoodler next to her. Not aware of her sitting position and the non-existing distance to the side window when Bo tried to put some space between the two of them, she crashed her head into the cold, hard glass with a bang.

"Ouwa!"

Rubbing the back of her head, Bo found a grinning Lewis staring back at her through alcohol clouded eyes. She could feel the heat rising from her chest all the way up her neck to settle on her cheeks. Good thing she had grown used to embarrass herself in front of her Boss.

Otherwise it would have felt kind of awkward, but like that it only made her want to crawl back into the cozy little hole she had been digging the last two weeks and which she had begun to decorate and furnish and... Well she was sure to spend a huge amount of time hiding down there when she had to work for this Lauren Lewis for a longer period of time, so why to not make it a bit more livable.

"I- uh, was searching for money?", glancing to the smirking blonde, out of the corner of her eyes.

"In my bra?"

"Yes?"

"Mhm."

Her Boss' gaze was fixed on her reddened skin. Bo tried her best to avoid eye contact but couldn't escape the challenging glance forcing her to explain herself further.

"I didn't think of you as a pants-coins kinda girl, so..."

"Pants-coins?"

"Yes. You look more like a bills carrier."

The head, heavy on the blonde's shoulders, rolled to the right to rest upon the brunette's upper arm. Bo was sure the blonde would suffer the next day. That position almost cried out for neck stiffness. A sigh left the woman signaling she would drift back to sleep any minute.

"I am a back-pocket-black-credit-card enthusiast."

Bo nodded and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, sure you are."

So no money available. How should she tell, what's his name, that they weren't able to pay for the ride? Leaning forward, one hand supporting sleepyhead to not fall upon that weird smelling seats face first, Bo read the ID glued to the dashboard.

"L- Larry?"

"Whazup, hottie?"

Urgh. Just shut up.

"We, we might have a little problem paying for your services..."

A sudden push on the brakes and the yellow car stopped abruptly, causing Bo to grab the head rest of the front seat with her right hand and tightening her hold on her Boss with her left for stabilization.

"Hey, are you nuts?"

Turning the key in the ignition the motor fell silent. Larry pulled the gear shift into park and spun around to face the two women. His expression not quite readable but Bo was positive that she saw a flash of anger in his bug-eyed face or maybe he was just eager to get that worm dangling on an invisible fishhook next to her face.

"Whataya mean by a _little problem_?"

Using his fore- and middle-fingers to draw quotation marks on the left and right side of his misshapen fish-like head.

Did his eyes just move in opposite directions?

"Perch!", Bo coughed. "Sorry."

"So?"

Bo straightened her sitting position. Her left arm encircled the blonde woman again, pulling her protectively to her body, head lying on the brunette's shoulder.

"Yeah, Larry, right?"

The man nodded slightly, his eyes growing into tight slits.

"Look. My friend and I have some trouble in finding our cash right now. So maybe you could drive to the nearest cash point so we can..."

"No, no, no. I know ya kind." His forefinger, warped like he had been picking his nose one of too many times, pointing alternately from the brunette to the blonde and back again. "Ya can't fool me. But, money ain't da only way to pay uncle Larry."

A dirty hand with yellow nails found its way on her Boss' left knee, drawing small circles, inching higher with every round his booger-fingers absolved.

"Gosh, I think I have to puke any second!". Bo could feel that heat rising again. But it wasn't embarrassment nudging on the front door of her limbic system, its disgust that spread its wings in her stomach.

"Fuck the counting, never did any good anyways," mumbling to herself, her right hand caught Larry's roaming one and squeezed it tightly, twisting his fingers so hard, that he had to crouch aside, squeaking like a school girl getting her butt slapped by some sports teacher, who couldn't keep his professional distance.

"Let go, let go!"

"Touch her again and you can forget all about self service for the next couple of days."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Sorry."

Bo let loose and Larry shook his arm, caressing his wrist. Looking at her own hand, wrinkling her nose, she needed to disinfect that one, brushing off invisible germs on her thigh.

"Damn, honey. No need to get bitchy."

"Don't honey me, egghead."

Looking back at the deeply breathing woman in her arms, Bo's anger ebbed away. A golden lock was moving upon the other woman's face with every exhale. Brushing the strand away with gentle fingers, the brunette smiled softly. Looking at the beauty in her arms, she could easily forget everything around them. Including the drooling bone sack named Larry, speaking up again.

"I'd be okay just sittin' here watchin' the two of ya in action, ya know!"

Bo's head shot up, focusing the wide grinning cab driver with a dead stare.

"You better watch out or my fist connects with what you call a face and you won't be able to watch anything but the swelling in front of your eyes!"

Holding his hands up, he shook his head.

"So, for that you should be happy that I don't call the police. We'll go now."

The taximeter blinked its red numbers in silence, seemingly okay with the fact that it had worked for nothing on this ride. Bo turned back to her Boss. Their faces mere inches apart. She could smell the air pregnant of whiskey and about to give birth to a fully grown hangover in the next couple of hours.

Leaning closer to the blonde's ear, Bo yet again brushed away loose tresses, softer than anything she had ever felt between her fingertips ever before.

"Miss Lewis? Lauren? Lauren wake up. We have to get out."

Her Boss stirred and looked up. Her eyes heavy with sleep.

"Okay." Her voice hoarse and barely a whisper.

They got out of the car. Hello night-stroll, goodbye stinky-ride.

So they walked and stumbled and walked on. Somewhere, along the third corner and forth alley, the Sleepyhead-Lewis woke up again, and extremely hot and bothered turned into hilariously funny. Her Boss had a strange kind of humor. A humor Bo was shocked about from time to time, but most of all liked a lot.

Throwing words around, like larva therapy and gold-fly, and that those little wormies had an unbelievable huge appetite. She called them Goldies, because they were worth a billion no less for the work they were doing in a wound.

"And that one time back in university", she rambled on, slurring some words along the way, "I stole a pack of those little swarm-er and...", a hearty laugh escaped her lungs and she almost lost her balance if it wasn't for Bo's reflex to pull her more firmly against her side, "... I lard my roommate's salad with them. She actually took two bites, before I couldn't hold myself together anymore. You should have seen her face!"

Bo would never be able to look at salad the way she did before, ever again. Thinking about salad, Bo didn't even touch that greenish leafage. She refused to eat the food of her food. She did have a moral and it just didn't seem right to her.

She also thought about her Boss and what kind of work she was doing.

The blonde talked and giggled and poked her forefinger into Bo's cheek and belly and upper arm, but lost balance and accidentally groped Caro.

Bo named her left boob Caro and her right Linn. She loved those names and she loved her girl junk, so in a drunken, and really weird night full of bright colors and awkward noises coming from that German-low-hang-bits granny from downstairs, she decided to give the most precious parts of her body the most beautiful names. Well, she hadn't had a car back then nor anything else she could have given a name to.

As a kid she dreamed about her own kids and the older she had grown, the more she had become aware of the fact that having kids wasn't that simple, or better said, finding that someone she saw herself with having those little squallers, wasn't that simple. The more she had seen what family looked like, watching her Dad and Mum, the more she just had known that she wouldn't want that for her own family.

So in retrospective, baptizing her girls was the most logical thing she had ever done, and it was a lovely ceremony. Just her, two bottles of cheap white wine (one for each) and her favorite underwear. Don't ask for more details, she had forgotten most of it anyways.

Bo stopped walking and stared at her Boss, who was still in full bedtime story-mode and not aware of where her finger had just landed. So she tried to shrug it off and they continued their seemingly endless journey.

When they finally arrived Bo's at apartment complex, that former state of hilariously funny had grown completely out of control. That woman must have been replaced with some kind of alien; there was no other way thinkable. Bo was positive to run into Dan Aykroyd behind the next corner or that she was Jessie Mills instead of Alyson Hannigan. She had watched My Stepmother is an Alien more than once, maybe that was the problem. Maybe she finally went bananas for good now.

They stumbled, up all those pretty too damn many one-hundred-something stairs, to the brunette's front door. A blonde chuckling, a brunette trying to steady them both with one hand on the banister, and the other one holding on her Boss, afraid they might lose balance with every step they were taking.

The giggle transformed into some weird grunting-like sounds that made Bo's libido wake up from a too many months of beauty sleep, and it didn't help anything, that the blonde started to untangle herself from her clothes within stair number ninety eight.

"No! What- what are you doing?"

"It is hot in here! I- why is it so hot in here?"

Ernst! She had forgotten all about that heating system.

"It's- okay, you have to stop."

Fishing the thrown off leather jacket off of the stairs, she took hold on the blonde's hands already fiddling with the hem of her shirt, pulling it up a bit. A toned stomach greeted her with twitching muscles, speaking some weird language of seduction of their own, when Bo forced her Boss to put the fabric back down.

"But I'm sweating."

"Oh God, please."

Bo couldn't stop the images flooding her mind. None of them would pass the Protection of young Persons Act and she was positive that even the late night program would decline the rights to bring that show back.

The last remaining stairs they fought some kind of awkward battle. Goldie (yeah, why not? Lewis had blonde locks and loved Gold-flies and it didn't matter that that nickname was already taken. Gosh, it just fitted right now!) made a game out of driving Bo insane, or sexually aroused, which was about the same in that situation.

Remember that dude, with that acquaintance of a friend of hers'? Before that base-jump without parachute, and before he had those- issues to concentrate, he was liaised with a girl sending him short messages, showing off her special parts and secret spots, but he had never been allowed to touch them. See? Sexuality was a bitch! Also bondage was, but that was a whole different story to tell.

Chuckling while tucking on shirts and buttons of jeans, and leather that wasn't her Boss', Bo managed to catch the blonde's hands, and trap her arms around her from behind, so that they were kinda spooning each other, when her front door came into sight.

"Let me- I can walk on my own!"

"Yeah, that you can! But you can't keep your cloths on!"

"Yes I can!"

"No you can't!"

"Sure, I can."

They stopped in the hallway leading to Bo's apartment. Still holding her Boss' wrist in a tight grip in front of the blonde's stomach. Both breathing heavily. Bo leaned her head forward to the other woman's left ear.

"So, you promise to keep your free body culture locked up for some other time, which is not in the nearer future?"

A nod.

"And I can trust you with that?"

Another nod.

"Okay, I'm gonna let you go then", loosening the grip and stepping back a few inches, "but I swear, when you- Lauren!"

Giggling the blonde was yet again fiddling with her shirt. This time Bo didn't get to her in time to stop her and the shirt was off within seconds in a swift move. The brunette jumped forward and crashed into her Boss, who was starting to unbutton her jeans yet again. Tackling her, they lost balance and fell onto the cold, hard, flagged floor.

The blonde laughed, the brunette groaned and from behind a crack of a door opening rounded up a perfect Friday night.

"The hell, Dennis! It's almost one in the mo- orning."

Or a perfect Saturday morning then.

"Fuck!"

Bo looked down on a very naked blonde only wearing thin lace to cover her bits and whose cleavage was on eye level of the brunette. Scents of perfume, whiskey, hallway floor and those Indian spices, coming from Mister 'I'm a culinary master in delivery' Douchebag's wide open apartment door, filled the air.

A shock-like state made Bo's body freeze while scanning her Boss, laying underneath with skin so damn visible and that thigh between her thighs, didn't help much to clear her lust-fogged mind. Okay, she was sure she had dreamed about something like that one night, but that scene was a bit different when she had created it in her head. On second thought, she had to take what was offered, right?

A heavy breath, like an ox exhaling through his nostrils, pushed Bo back into reality. Looking up at two sparkling eyes and the sweetest smile on the blonde's lips Bo had ever seen on her. They were holding each other's gaze, more serious now. No laughter could be heard anymore. Just that obnoxious ox, which must have been close to expire based on the grunting and heavy puffs of breath coming from his lungs.

Bo blinked and snapped out of whatever movie was shown in that cinema called her head. Looking left and right she spotted the shirt, reached out for it and coated the blonde with it, before she got up and turned around to face that animal-like peeper.

"You know, you should better go and watch one of those Blue Movies from that large collection of yours to have one off the wrist."

Bo stepped closer, to shield this nudist of a Lewis still lying on the floor. Mr. Ugh-of-Yuk tried to get another glimpse by leaning sideways to look past his neighbor, whose patience was about to give up any second.

She really didn't want to touch him, to push him back into his stall of an apartment. Her stomach twisted by the view of his whole-body-pajama with the fly a bit too close to reveal his small hamster balls. And Bo once had a hamster. So she knew what she would be looking at. There was more fur than anything else, but anyways, she wouldn't risk eye cancer or insomnia because of persistent vomit sessions caused from her photographic mind and the pictures of human-hamster-balls on repeat.

"Back off! Go! Get lost and- God damnit buy some new nightwear or at least a _bathrobe_!"

He moved backwards, still sneaking around the furious brunette.

"Dude, naff off, or you get to know Miss Manliness Destroyer." Her eyes looking like dagger's and her forefinger pointing at her right knee. Yep, she really had to send Dee Bee a 'Cheers mate'-card.

That male cow with apparently not a lot of any female encounters stepped back, a last glaring stare at Bo and a tap on a non-existing clock on his wrist, he mouthed 'one o'clock' before closing the door.

"Bloody- voyeur!" Not her best remark, but this was some kind of exceptional state. He could be sure of more than just one coffee patch on his next newspaper.

Bo closed her eyes for a second. She had just wanted to get laid. Easy, simple, the old fashioned way.

Okay, there could have been some surprises here and there, but anyways, either she was getting too old for that (which wasn't really an option, because even if she had grown old, and by old she meant fortyish, she would still be sex on a stick, fact!), or she peed on someone's favorite pair of Manolo Blahniks, in that case she would like to apologize to whomever, because she just _needed_ release. Pretty much.

Turning around, she opened her eyes again after taking one deep breath and letting out an even longer sigh. She looked back down on a very much dead to the world Lauren Lewis, clutching her shirt to her chest, her blonde tresses all around her head, the overhead mirroring a golden shimmer in her strands.

"Oh my, what am I about to do with you, Lauren?"

Kneeling to her Boss' right side, Bo caressed her bare forearm. Soft cool skin underneath her sweaty fingertips. The sleepy woman's eyelids flutter open. Dilated pupils slowly dwindling as the blonde tried to focus on the Driver hovering over her.

"Hey there."

"Hi", a groggy sigh and a slight frown formed her former relaxed features, "Driver?"

"Yes."

"I- uh, I really don't feel that well."

Bo's heart sunk and she didn't exactly know what made her feel this weird change of atmosphere, inside of her. Of course her Boss would feel bad at some point within her intoxicated state. And for sure she would hate herself the next day. Bo knew what she was talking about. She had experienced like a thousands of those mornings slash afternoons, depending on when she had forced herself to continue living life again.

But there was something in the woman's eyes and the way she looked back at Bo, as if she was the only one who could make it all better. The only one who could fix this. It made her heart beat harder, her belly jump up and down and her chest scream out loud.

Brushing some hair behind the blonde's ear, a soft smile spread upon the brunette's lips.

"Yes, I know. Come on. You don't want to sleep on that floor. Let's get you inside, okay?"

When Bo had managed to finally settle her overnight guest in her bed after helping them to change into something more comfortable and feeding some aspirin with a bit of water, she let herself slam down on the couch.

Her apartment was surprisingly cool. Whatever Ernst had done down there in the basement, he probably destroyed the heating system for good this time. Bo was sure about that.

Tomorrow. She would have to talk to that Friday the thirteen's version of an oompa loompa tomorrow.

Bane made his way along the floor across the sofa, heading to his night camp on the brunette's bed, when two strong hands caught him and carried his with kibbled stuffed belly back to the living room.

"Sorry, sweetheart, tonight we have to share this tiny space right here."

Placing him on the couch, Bo got herself ready to catch some hard-earned rest. After brushing her teeth, she filled the bottom of an old cleaning bucket with water and made her way towards her sleeping Boss.

Thinking that she might need it tonight.

Better being prepared than dealing with the consequences unfurled like a sticky carpet on the floor the other day. One last longing look on the beauty in her bed a sigh yet again filled the silence of her apartment.

"I'm in deep shit!"


	6. Chapter 6

**And again... it took me some time. I mean what are one and a half years? It's kinda short and I'm trying to get back into some kind of writing mode but it's a start. Nothing special, just a bit bla bla.**

 **Tell me what you think. I would love to hear your thoughts.**

 **Mucho thank you to FreeingTheWriterWithin. Wasn't easy to get through this mess, huh?**

 **Here we go:**

* * *

Chapter 6

* * *

Okay, that wasn't how Bo had pictured that whole waking up on the day after a night like that. Carrying her boss through town and up those one hundred thirty eight stairs.

Like not at all.

Well to be honest, it hadn't been an ordinary Friday night, why should it have been an ordinary Saturday?

Her mouth was dried out. The taste was more likely the newest flavor of 'when the fuck did I suck on Dad's old worn out fishing socks'. A mix of sea tang, smelly feet and stagnant lake water. That green water covered in duckweed, which odor left nothing for the imagination but the message seemed crystal clear: Don't eat fish out of my depth, Doofus!

Bo's right arm was lying over her eyes. Limp. She poked her left forefinger into the flesh, but felt nothing. She tried to move with all she had. Within her third attempt she had even considered that it wasn't even her arm which made her freak out for a second.

Yeah, well, such things happened. When she was in middle school, Bonita, one of the famous chicas from school threw one of her even more famous parties. Her parents were rich and busy and most of the times out of town. The effect? Sleepover-trance-vodka-energy-happenings. No shit. She even made fliers. Almost half of the school came to those 'Stveppenings'. Yeah, Bonita came up with this mix of words. Sleepover Trance Vodka Energy Happenings. Short Stveppenings. And boy was she proud about that dayfly of a brainwave. Even a broken clock was right twice a day, wasn't it? The word even made it into the top 10 of the 'most used'. Right after 'Fuck yourself' and before 'Sorry I'm late'.

Bo hated trance or dance or however this abnormality of up and down beats were called. She always found it very annoying to listen to. Anyway she did appreciated a good vodka and Bonita knew how to wet Bo's panties. Well, not like _wet_ wet but it was pretty much the most expensive and clear vodka Bo's taste buds had ever had the chance to bath themselves in.

Going to Stveppenings had always been the same. Everytime. Bo would walk into the mass of already drunk school mates -since the cool never appeared early- and as some kind of welcome ritual, she got groped by Ted. Next on the list was his best buddy Bradt with 'dt' – seriously his parent's must have been on some very bad drugs or something, otherwise who would have chosen to write that name with 'dt' or at all. Last but not least Dee Bee. One would have thought that dude would have learned his lesson in Kindergarten already. But no. Big clap, long whistle, fast turn on the heel and her right knee found Balls-eye. Fifty points straight. Maybe dart was her game.

The order varied from party to party. Ted, Dee Bee, Bradt. Bradt, Ted, Dee Bee. Either way they would grope and Bo would ball-kick and nose-punch. In between she would wave her hello to the host -a girl'd got manners and stuff- and head straight into the kitchen passing by beer bongs and flunky-ball games on her way.

Vodka bottle in her left hand and one of those potato salad bowls clamped under her right arm -she became hungry when she drank- Bo walked up to the Major bedroom. Major with a capital 'M'. Bonita's brother hated it when anyone else but him opened the door to his bedroom slash Batcave. Seriously, this dude had collected -or stolen- a very significant amount of DC merchandise including a Batman costume from the Batman series from 1966 with a signature of Adam West. She had tried it on once or twice.

Purple wasn't her color.

She drank and ate and watched some of the old VHS that were neatly sorted in a closet next to the TV. Here and there the brunette growled at a couple bursting through the door in heavy patting sessions until she would eventually fall asleep spread out on the bed drooling on Warner Brothers bed sheets.

That one morning Bo had woken up with sore muscles and a leg that wouldn't move nor responded to poking and pinching. So she panicked. Or how Bo would probably tell the story: thoughtfully considered to use the nail scissor from the bedside table and ram it right into the thigh. Gently.

A body next to her screamed in pain and after opening her eyes fully she could ascertain beyond doubt that it hadn't been her leg wrapped in that ugly dirty baggy jeans. She didn't even do jeans. Well, things like that happened.

While lying on her couch and listening to Sally's good morning sonata on the kitchen counter was a very regular Saturday morning. Bo had expected to be woken up when others went to bed but the non-responding of her limps was new.

"Damn, fucking.. _Sally_ , cut it!"

Her voice raspy and her throat burning from sleeping with an open mouth most of the night, the brunette rolled herself off of the stone of a seating possibility and crouched her way to the front of her coffee table while holding her limb right arm in her left, massaging the hell out of it.

"Come on, ugh! At least you _are_ mine."

Giving up her attempt to bring it back to life she stood up and walked with eyes on the floor. Her head was hanging low and her hair pointing to all directions tangled wildly in front of her face. Her arm awkwardly dangling at her side as she made her way towards the hysterically whimpering sound station.

Thinking about at least ten ways to catapult that phone back to where no sun would ever shine, she reached over the counter blindly to where Sally's night camp usually was. Right next to the dishtowel to wrap around her and near the drawer Bo would place the muffled yell-er in.

"I swear to the Masters of the Universe, I'll throw you against the..."

Bo's left hand got hold on something on her counter that was way too thin and somewhat abrasive and just not Sally. She flinched as if she had touched the burning hot kettle on Ms Turkeywattle's stove yet again.

Ms Turkeywattle was the single lady from next door, where Bo's mum's tea tasting group took place way back and where Bo had learned how to burn her mouth without letting anyone know that she couldn't taste shit anymore. Especially not the tender, floral flavor of that Darjeeling 'First Flush' harvested at the acclivity of the Himalaya after the winter break.

Seriously, what's more fun for a twelve year old? Sitting at some tea party listening to some mid-fifties women and her mum. With every word the host's throat's wobbling lappet was dancing. Just like a turkey wattle. There wouldn't even be cake, since that distracted the taste buds. And the non ending philosophizing about color, smell and aftertaste of way too hot water with herbs Bo hadn't even heard about.

Shuddering, Bo looked up through tired eyes. Way too early for Polaroids like that. Siren-Sally stopped yelling for the next few minutes. Snooze alarm it's called Bo had learned from Bob after one of their small talks about fair and unfairness of life and who would win the trophy of most unwanted jobs.

Focusing her eyes on what seemed like a piece of paper caused furrowed brows.

"What in She-Ra's name..."

Grabbing Bo's still very much dead right arm, she let it fall onto the counter with a thud and lent over to pick up that white, neatly folded piece of paper. Her left thumb lifted on side up to reveal a few words written with a black pen.

 _Loft. 7 pm sharp. Lewis._

"That woman knows how to write verbose stories."

Turning around to her bed she shook her head.

"How the heck did she make it out of that Sleeping Beauty State and back home in less than..."

With that Sally called for attention again. Bo turned around. With routine she wrapped her in the towel and shoved her into the drawer before the brunette scuffled her way to her bed and let herself fall onto the mattress.

"Gosh. It still smells like...", she shook her head. That's not where we go to Bo!

"M-my washing powder."

With a sigh Bo turned around. Bane had found his way onto the upper shelf of the self-made rack and was looking down on the woman. His only eye opened widely. A pushy tile waving slowly.

"Loft. Loft. Loft."

Bo's left middle finger was tipping slowly into the flesh of her awakening forearm. Eyes gazed up onto the ceiling.

"Whatever that means, it can't be good. And also it's Saturday. How did she even get back home?"

Bo locked gazes with that curious furball. With another sigh Bo decided to take a nap. One of those naps that were timed half an hour and before you know it, three hours had passed. It just wasn't the time to think, or speak, or do anything but sleep yet.

"Saturday. For some people that day is holy."

People like Pete's dad. On Saturdays he used to have his very own pilgrimage. Starting with making his family wave him goodbye through the living room window after he closed the front door to march on for a long walk with boots and a stick and some water-like liquid in a glass bottle.

His little crusade ended a few houses down the street to Mister Lack's bunker where they would hide and get drunk together. Yeah family can be one hell of a challenge. Bo always wondered why no one ever found out about his little Saturday ritual. One cold literally tell from the tip of his nose. Strawberry red.

Her eyes fell shut and her arm went back up into a position that would end up the same way she had woken up before. The smell of blonde shampoo all over the sheets –this shampoo for blonde hair to make it, well, blonde and by the way, Bo tried, but apparently it didn't work with brown hair- and the thought of sleeping on the same spot like that annoying and stubborn and totally not her type kind of person made her mind drift away again.


	7. Chapter 7

**It took me some time but here it is. I hope I did focus a bit more on the story itself and less on the stories Bo has in her very head. Let me know what you think and thank you to all of you who left me a comment or tweet or re-tweeted my tweet and so on. I do appreciate all of it!**

 **Again, a special thanks to FreeingTheWriter (you're a-ma-zing)**

Chapter 7

Twenty seven minutes late. In words twenty seven. Could have been worse.

"You're late!"

She didn't even knock. One hand was busy to fan some air in her face. The other was stemmed in her side. She wasn't prepared yet. Not one bit. The door flew open while she was still calming herself down. She was angry and hot and hadn't counted to ten yet.

"You took", breathe, "my car!"

Even though she had some time to catch her breath in the elevator there was still a lack of air in Bo's lunges.

"I hate waiting!"

She couldn't be serious. This woman just couldn't be serious.

"You took my damn car!"

Memo to herself: breathing through clenched teeth – less intake of fresh air. Okay maybe she should start counting. This went into a very bad direction.

One.

"You should work on your punctuality."

Two!

"And your tone."

Threeee.

Her Boss stood in the doorway with her right hand on the door knob showing off her poker face-like impression. The night before didn't even show its ugliness on her freaking flawless face. She could be a serial killer and totally pull off being Barbara the innocent.

Bo had her fair share of Barbaras for a lifetime.

As a student, there was this girl in class. She was the head of the cool-kids group. Something like the leader of the mascara-gang. Bo and Barbara had their… moments. Barbara loved to push other kids around and never got called out because unfortunately she also was the teacher's favorite. For a matter of unknown curiosities, or maybe because she never left out any discussion, Bo was quite the opposite.

So, no one believed her, when the brunette professed that Barb-bitch was the first that started to pull her hair. Unfortunately, the knot of very badly bleached hair in Bo's fist and that raccoon-faced crybaby of innocence told a different story.

No one saw that Bo's hair was totally out of place, too. Her carefully arranged ponytail took almost five minutes to look as if she just got out of bed. It's a gift. Well, for most of the time she did just get out of bed and sometimes her head was hanging off the mattress while she put the hairband in but that was not the point at all!

Trying to reach some level of calmness or rather non-rage -she shouldn't set the bar too high- the brunette crossed her arms over her chest.

"Have you ever tried to get from my part of town to your part of town by foot?"

Okay, child, breathe. And count. Three or was it four already? Couldn't hurt to repeat a number here. Or all ten for that matter.

"You're also dripping!"

Four.

"What?"

"My carpet. It's wet."

Five. This could actually work this time. She already felt...

"Well, Miss Lewis, it is indeed raining outside."

...less irritated.

"You couldn't have taken an umbrella?"

Six. You can do this. Just keep on going. Just like this one time after Franco spilled his blueberry juice all over your favorite shirt in high school. No biggie.

"Well in my part of town it wasn't raining when I left. By foot. Cause surprisingly enough I couldn't find my car keys where I left them or anywhere else in my rather small apartment. But now there's the as chance would have it neither was the car they belong to. And as a matter of fact, I don't own an umbrella."

On second thoughts. That Franco-story might have not turned out that well. She did calm down. She really did. Until she didn't anymore because that Franco dude wouldn't stop making stupid comments like Bo would have won the wet-T-shirt-contest and stuff like that.

So, it lasted as long as it did before Bo dragged him out of the cafeteria and into the girl's toilette. Bo for once got a new shirt that day. It had been easy to get him to taking off his Korn band-shirt. Smelled like aftershave but at least she looked great in it. Black was her color anyway. Franco on the other hand got a new girl cut shirt with blueberry juice all over the front. He wore neon pink and belly free that day. Wasn't the easiest year in school for him.

Seven.

"You know that rain is a very common thing in Toronto that part of the year? You should buy yourself an umbrella."

This is just not what Bo wanted to hear nor do after walking through the rain for an hour and a half. Using public transportation on a Saturday evening also wasn't the fluffiest pony in the barn. More like a short-bristled, old, grey and blurred eyed donkey. Just like Mister Ed from that farm she went to as a child. She baptized him Mister Ed because she liked the thought of her being the only chosen one who could actually talk to a horse. Like in that TV series. Well, or donkey in that case. Could also have been that the donkey wasn't even male. But who cares about gender anyway?

"Where is your uniform."

Bo was jolted out of her time travel. "My what now?"

The brunette had been eyed up and down by her Boss. Twice. And if she hadn't known better, she would have thought her Boss' glances lingered some seconds too long on that V-cut of her shirt. Soaking wet could be a nice sight when one wore the right shirt.

Boohya- high five to cleavage.

"It's my day off. I didn't think I had to wear my uniform when I wasn't working."

"So, you're here for some friendly visit?"

The blonde mirrored her driver's standing position.

"Friendly vi-... well you wrote me a note."

"So, you are indeed working?"

Bo's right hand went through her wet strands.

"Uhm, to be frank, the last time I saw you, you were lying in some alcoholic dreamland in my bed and..."

"Shhht!"

Her boss waved her hands in front of the brunette, cutting her off in mid-sentence. Bo saw a picture she hadn't seen before and didn't think was even possible. Not with her Boss. Not Miss Lewis. Always having the upper hand over her emotions. Although she also wouldn't have dreamt about her being in the state she was in yesterday, lying in Bo's bed. Well, maybe she did once or twice but who could sue her? Her Boss was hot.

"Shhht? Why? We're alone!"

So why was Bo whispering?

Bo looked around. The hallway was empty and the elevator doors long closed. That alert woman in front of her got a grip on Bo's left forearm and with a strong pull, the brunette wasn't prepared for yet again, the blonde dragged her inside and closed the door after them. With the back to the driver, the blonde's head was hanging low.

Silence. Silencio. Quieto.

"Where am I?"

Bo spun around slowly. It was some kind of hallway but one she had never seen before. The walls were tiled. From floor to ceiling. Correction. Everything was tiled. Walls, floor plus the ceiling. Black tiles shining with soap and water. No finger prints, nor foot prints. Just a trail of water drops that were still dripping off of Bo's hair and clothes.

The brunette was standing in the middle of the corridor. What was that about serial killer again? She had watched way too much Dexter. Four lamps in every corner spent some light. Definitely not bright enough for slaughtering living creatures.

Or was it?

There was a heavy dark wooden door on her right and a one made of steel on her left side.

"You are about to enter my private quarters."

Bo jerked when she felt her Boss' breath on her still damp left cheek. The blonde stood close to her. There was still enough space between them but the way that woman lent forward with her hands behind her back almost whispering those words made Bo's heart speed up again. And not just because of dread.

That traitor.

"Uhu."

Get a grip.

Her Boss walked to the wooden door Bo was still looking at. She felt excitement growing inside of her when she thought about the fact that she's got a backstage invitation for the mysterious loft she hadn't been allowed to put one foot in for as long as she worked for Miss Lewis. Plus, she'd never been backstage.

Ex-ci-ting!

"Before I open that door," the blonde turned around and Bo almost crashed right into her.

"Sorry."

Bo's mind was already inside although her body clearly wasn't. Her Boss didn't back off. Yet again they were standing way too close. The driver could smell her Boss' shampoo and freshly washed clothes and in her head, she was back in that dirty taxi holding a sleeping blonde in her arms.

"Before I open that door I want you to know, that this is a onetime thing. I strictly separate everything work related from my private life."

There was that tone again. That tone Bo was used to hearing from her Boss. The blonde was back in her role. Well it was nice as long as it lasted to see some human-like reactions.

"Noted," Bo stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest again. Defensive mode on full charge.

Roleplay! Count me in, honey.

She knew how to roleplay. She freaking ruled roleplay. Like a Boss. Ever since Mother-Father-Child in fifth grade she knew how to stay in character. As well as she knew how to pretend as if she didn't give a flying unicorn that no one wanted to have her roleplaying with them.

Ever since this little incident in the middle of one of the fictive games, no one ever wanted to include her again.

Well it wasn't her fault that Tyler stepped on her imaginary tail. He could have been more careful. Bo took her role as the cat of the house serious and when someone stepped onto her tail, they had to bear with the consequences.

Her mother made her draw a 'Sorry'-card.

Twice.

She didn't know why her mum wouldn't accept a waving kitten with a 'better watch your steps' banner. She thought it was a well-meant advice. Instead she wrote 'sorry that I jumped you and bit your nose and scratched your neck'. Before she put it in the self-made envelope she added 'and better watch your steps next time' when her mum didn't look.

"Okay," with that Miss Lewis opened the door.

"What the..."

Bo's mouth fell open. She stepped inside a huge living room. On the left was a comfortable looking couch in front of a TV. Its size was perfect to cover that shabby view out of the windows at the brunette's place.

To her right some stairs led up to another door. Probably the bedroom.

Walking in a bit further there was the kitchen to her right. Nothing too big but enough space to prepare food and to not collide with the sink or stove. She touched her right elbow absentmindedly. Whole different story which is not worth mentioning any further right now so don't ask!

"Oh my... Do you play?"

Bo crossed the room to the other side. Her fingertips brushed over the coldish smoothly polished wood of a shiny brown grand piano.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?"

The brunette looked up and back to a smiling blonde leaning against the wall to her left.

"Yeah, she is."

Bo did mean the piano, but seeing her Boss smiling and more relaxed than ever in her white business blouse with the last two buttons left open and those black suit pants fitting just perfectly, weren't half bad either.

Bo walked around the piano and pushed one of the white keys down. The sound echoed through the silence up to the high ceiling. She pushed another key and another one.

"It sounds amazing."

"For sixty three thousand Canadian dollars she better does sound amazing!"

Bo's finger slipped down over three white keys when her brain had processed what those numbers meant. Was that a waterdrop on the polish? Is that dust or did she break one of the black keys? Did she even touch the black ones? She swallowed hard before she turned around to face the chuckling blonde.

How adorable her Boss could be?

Bo shook her head.

"Well, it does sound amazing."

"Yes. Steinway and Sons know how to build a body to create a unique sound. The room has the perfect shape to make every tone sound like its very own symphony. It's amazing."

Bo nodded. As if she knew anything about pianos. Or the shape a room should have. Or about why she starred at her Boss like she did which was probably not appropriate for an employee and she should definitely stop right about now and swallow that saliva-lake back down, thank you very much!

She could easily find an excuse like that she just loved to listen to someone who knew what they were talking about. But to be honest here, a beautiful blonde business woman, rocking an outfit like that as well as being smart and talking with that adoration? Who could blame a young brunette in her best years, who was lacking an intimate life for more than… whatever.

"Nice apartment. Although..."

The brunette looked around.

"… you're lacking windows."

Actually, there was no window at all. Nowhere. The room was made of four walls. Three of them were cream-colored and the one right next to the piano was all black.

Well, tastes differ, so they say.

"Oh."

The blonde pushed herself off the wall and walked to the opposite side of the room.

"When I came home I actually didn't feel the need of daylight."

Next to the front door was a touchscreen the size of Bo's microwave with a lot of different symbols on it. Her Boss pushed some combination and a second later the black wall next to Bo disappeared.

The brunette couldn't believe what she was seeing. A huge windowfront appeared. From floor to the ceiling. All the way from one side of the room to the other.

"This is..."

Bo cleared her throat.

"Not bad, Miss Lewis. Really not bad."

Her Boss was standing next to her now, looking outside the window watching the sunset over the skyline of Toronto. Of course, the rain had to stopped after Bo arrived. Now it was the most beautiful view.

"Yes, it is."

Bo stepped closer to the glass and looked down. Good thing she wasn't afraid of heights. She tried to make out the concrete of the street and moved closer and closer until her forehead banged against the window.

"And high up."

Rubbing her skin, she went back to her spot next to the blonde.

"Not that I'm not excited to see how you live, believe me I was wondering how it looked like in here..."

Bo looked around. She did imagine a lot. From little-worms-in-salad plantations to robots working on tiny implants to simply a bed and a table.

"…but why am I here?"

All of a sudden, the air in the loft seemed to grow freezing cold. Her Boss looked tense and switched back into her role like it was some kind of protective shield.

"Right."

The lightness and adoration Bo heard and felt radiating from the blonde when they were talking about the piano and the view were gone. Back to emotionless. Back to Casino-mode.

"You may sit down. I'm back in a second."

With that she was left alone. Her Boss left the room out the front door and closed it behind her. The brunette clapped her hands on her thighs, not exactly sure about where to sit on or what to touch afraid to ruin it. She's pretty sure her insurance wouldn't cover clumsiness. Neither conspiracy of fate and karma. If she had an insurance that was. So, she decided to just keep on standing on that very spot she called dips on.

Turning her head to the right she saw a small stature on a small table next to the kitchen counter. She knelt down in front of the table, eye level with the small grey stone stature.

Damn curiosity of hers.

It was a person kneeling with a big ball on their back. Holding it in a seemingly uncomfortable position. Bo's forefinger reached out to the ball, which looked like earth. She could see the shape of the continents. The second she touched the ball the front door opened again and her Boss walked back in. Flabbergasted, Bo lunged sideways to the left and the ball flew to the right.

"Damn."

Bo got up and straightened her still very wet clothes.

"I'll pay for that."

Her Boss flipped through a pile of paper while walking through the door.

"Pay for what?"

Bo kicked the small ball that was rolling towards her left food into the back of the apartment.

"Nothing."

Snappy, Bo.

They sat down on the couch and yes, her ass had never ever touched anything like that before. And here she thought her Hummer was comfy. So naïve.

"So, I prepared everything. You only have to sign here…"

The blonde handed Bo the papers and tipped on a thin line singed with an X.

"…and here…"

She flipped onto the next page. They felt warm and smelled freshly printed as well.

"… and here."

Bo nodded. Only because she had manners and was taught to do so because she understood the words and what the blonde asked her to do. Until she started shaking her head because her logical mind took over and she didn't get shit.

"What am I looking at?"

Bo scanned the paper and flipped back to the frontpage.

"Conspiracy of silence?"

The what of what now?

"Yes. You can read it through if you need to but to summarize the important facts, you sign to keep your mouth shut about everything that happened or what you heard last night and in exchange you get this."

The blonde placed a thick envelope on the coffee table. Bo didn't know what to say or think or if this was a set up. She had heard from this one girl that was pressured to sign some papers because she needed the money and in the end, she was on some ship sailing across the ocean to some harem. Or maybe that was a movie but anyway, stuff like that never turned out right.

Bo shook her head and blinked in disbelieve.

"So, what you're saying is you pay me for not telling anyone that you were drunk like a skunk."

"I would have chosen different words but yes."

The blonde stared into Bo's eyes. A cold brown. Bo would never have thought that brown eyes could look that way.

"Okay wait a second."

Bo placed the document on her lap and stared right back into the hazel eyes in front of her. Her Boss was sitting upright with her hands folded in her lap. She seemed like that business woman she was and Bo wondered if the blonde was only playing it cool or not. She tried to read that face, those eyes but did come up with nothing. Bo felt frustration crawling up her guts again. Frustration and anger. Her wet pants clung to her legs and the couch did its best to suck her ass dry. Bo couldn't care less if she ruined the expensive interior.

"You pay me?"

"Positive."

Bo looked at the envelope.

"How much?"

"5000."

Bo's throat felt as dry as Uncle Brad's citrus cake. It also tasted the same and there was no overly sweet herbal tea to swallow down the unpleasant sourness. The brunette went through her hair. It was silent in the apartment. If there had been a clock on the wall, Bo was sure the clock hand would have played a drum duet with her heartbeat by now for everyone to listen to.

"5000?"

The blonde nodded.

"For my reticence?"

"Exactly."

Bo took in a sharp breath. Money was rare in her pockets at any time. The month would already start with red numbers. Although being a personal driver these past weeks had made it a bit less stressful. At least on the money-front. She placed the papers next to the envelope on the table stood up and straightened her black leather jacket.

"No thanks."

Her Boss raised herself from her spot on the couch.

"If you try to squeeze more money out of this, I have to disappoint you."

The blonde remained her controlled self. It drove Bo crazy. So, she tried to do what was best in this situation. She breathed in, breathed out and gathered her thoughts before she stepped forward until she was directly in front of her Boss. With her eyes focused on the brown orbs she spoke up as calmly as possible.

"I already am disappointed. I might seem needy and I might be broke, but I will not let anyone buy my loyalty. I'm not for sale, Miss Lewis. So… keep your money."

Bo was proud of herself. Seemed there was a first time for everything. She felt lighter. Facing her Boss and addressing the obvious without any verbal assaults.

Take that Motherfuckers.

The brunette walked on passing that statue of a Lewis when she heard the blonde's voice in her ears. There was a sharp edge to the words and Bo knew she had hit the right spot.

"Everybody has a price. I'm long enough in that business to know that."

Bo slowed down her steps. She didn't turn around even though she knew her Boss was looking at her.

"I'm not everybody, Miss Lewis."

Proudly she kept on walking and made it to the front door when she felt her Boss' hand around her left wrist.

"Wait."

Bo stopped in tracks and looked down on that hand around her jacket-covered arm.

"Please, …Miss Dennis?"

Please, Miss Dennis? The heck? How dare that woman playing that card now when Bo had already planned her very own winner-party in her head? With milk and toast and that chocolate bar she kept in her fridge for special occasions. She wasn't prepared for that pleading tone in the blonde's voice. Neither to hear her real name anytime soon coming from those lips again. Delicious lips indeed.

Don't go there Bo! You randy old devil!

When she turned back around she also wasn't prepared for that look in the blonde's eyes. She seemed desperate. The coldness was gone and replaced by something sincerer.

"What do you want, if not my money? What else can I offer?"

The blonde was still holding Bo's arm. Her eyes seemed to search for answers all over Bo's face.

"First of all, a towel would have been nice, but now that I already marked my space on the couch I guess we can skip that."

A joke. Usually a joke was made to loosen the tension. But as it turned out sometimes it could make it even more awkward. Stand-up comedy wasn't one of Bo's strong points it seemed.

A sigh left the brunette and with a swift move she stretched her arm, grabbed the blonde's hand that was still holding her wrist.

"Listen."

Bo unpacked her most empathetic voice.

"You were drunk yesterday and I happened to be at the same place at the same time. I could have walked away but I didn't and now we're here. End of story."

The blonde hissed and draw her hand out of Bo's hold. She looked at the ceiling when she spoke up.

"I learned very early in my life that trust is a joy that comes with a high price. Trust is unpredictable. You can't control trust."

Her voice was meant to be calm and controlled but came out a bit shaky in the end.

"As well as the weather forecast and still people choose their clothes depending on that."

The blonde looked back at the driver.

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Well then, enlighten me."

With a sigh, her Boss turned around and walked deeper into the room until she stopped next to the piano.

"I'm in a position where I cannot be seen like I was yesterday. I don't even know what made me go that far. I barely go out unless it's business related…"

"Yeah and we know those are fun."

Bo had to think about that Harry Gremlin. Gosh she hated that lecher. Shaking her head, the brunette walked towards her Boss.

"You need to understand that my father is a very powerful man and any kind of miss-step, every failure has to be paid. I'm his only child. I'm the future face of his company. He already planned the rest of my life and there's absolutely no space for misbehavior."

They locked eyes and Bo could tell the blonde wasn't joking.

"This here…"

She pointed around.

"This apartment is the only place I can be the person I want to be."

"I see."

Bo took the blonde's hand back in her own. She tightened her grip when she spoke.

"Maybe it's unusual for you but I don't want to be paid to do the right thing. I won't deny that I really, really could use that money, but not like that."

Bo felt a strong pull inside of her that drew her closer to that woman in front of her. She stepped further into the personal space of her Boss.

"You asked me what you could offer."

The blonde stared back at Bo and nodded. The brunette was sure that this energy that she felt, that electricity between them, was written all over the other woman's face. Bo could read. She was an amazing decipherer and she was certain that the blonde could feel it. The spell.

"Remember my name."

"Excuse me?"

Her Boss looked confused.

"When we first met you said you would call me Driver, 'cause people come and go. So, if there was anything contract-like to make me keep that secret it would be that you remember my name and use it."

The brunette tried her best to stay focused. She needed that job and that person in front of her, was her Boss. Her very, very attractive, great smelling, soft skinned Boss. So, she closed her eyes, took another breathe of that sweet scent of what was Lauren Lewis and stepped back. Bo let go of her Boss and stretched her hand out for the blonde to shake.

"So, is that a deal?"

The blonde looked down on the offered hand and back up to meet a pair of waiting eyes. With a soft smile on her lips Lauren Lewis mirrored the gesture and sealed the deal.

"Alright, Miss Dennis."

Bo flinched.

"Miss Dennis is my mother."

Her Boss laughed quietly.

"That's all you get. I'm still your Boss."

"Very well… I take what I can get. There's just one thing…"

Still shaking hands, Bo couldn't stop but wonder.

"You didn't drive here this morning I hope. After last night, you were in no condition to drive. Please tell me you didn't drive."

"I actually haven't driven a car ever since I got my driver's license anymore. It's just not what a business woman like my father wanted me to be does. So, no, I didn't. I called for my concierge."

"Bob?"

Her Boss shrugged.

"If that's his name."

"He has been working for your family for ages now."

Bo stopped shaking and let go of the blonde's hand. In the end, she was that person again. That person that got under her skin. And this time it was not attraction or her hormones longing for something sparkly.

"Anyway, I let him drive me back home."

Bo nodded. There was an uneasiness that filled the silence and Bo knew the time was right to make an easy exit.

"Well, okay, Miss Lewis. If you gave me the keys back then, I could leave you to…"

Bo looked around and shrugged.

"...whatever it is you do."

"The key is downstairs at the reception."

"All right."

Bo felt anything but easy right now. She walked backwards, hoping her body would find the way to the door without knocking down anything of fortune. She just rejected a shitload of monetos and she just couldn't afford having to get a loan to pay some broken porcelain. With a thud, she found that wooden barrier that would release her from that thick aired room.

"Miss Lewis."

She opened the door.

"Miss Dennis."

She closed the door behind her.

What a day. What a frick-frack of a day. She couldn't wait to tell Bane.


	8. Chapter 8

**This one is rather short, but I hope you still enjoy it. Thanks for all your support, even though I'm slooooow like a snail updating my stuff.**

Chapter 8

So, rain.

What's the purpose?

There was something about rain that she just couldn't stand right now.

It's wet and cold and damn freaking wet. Yes, okay, water is essential, but seriously, couldn't have that whole thing been invented a little bit less soaking and a bit more… dry?

Maybe it was the sound on the windshield while she was sitting in her cockpit next to the restaurant her Boss was having one of her business dinners in.

Maybe it was the fog that laid itself on the glass from the inside which made it hard to look out and why she had to turn that damn blow-machine of an air-condition on and off about a thousand times which puffed that sticky wind in her face and hair and got her eyes all dry and teary at the same time. One needed a university degree in carology to adjust those stupid ventilation-thingies properly so that the air-condition wouldn't spit its breath into ones face all the time. Seriously, it's an art.

Or maybe it was the thought of that moment when she saw her Boss getting up and towards the door again which meant for her to get out in that mess of a waterfall to hold that world's most unpractical umbrella up and ready for Miss Lewis to secure her from the downpour.

While she got wet. Wet, wet, wet.

Maybe it was the feeling of wet socks in almost as wet shoes and that stupid squeaking sound they made whenever wool glides over fake leather. Why had she had to step into that puddle of water back at the entrance of Miss Lewis' apartment building.

Jippe-di-doo.

Probably she was just tired. She wasn't a fan of the shower from above but usually she wasn't that annoyed to it either. It was way past her bedtime and Bo just wanted to crawl underneath the covers of her bed and close her eyes. That dinner seemed never ending and Bo hadn't even had dinner herself. She craved ice-cream and fries and a burger and chocolate cake. Not specifically in that order but to tell the truth, she wouldn't mind either.

"Damn rain!"

Another air-condition-tackle and she had to close her eyes for a moment. Pictures of grilled meat and freshly fried potato pieces collided with some more blurred ones of a blonde woman smiling and a piano and some reddish paws and soft fur she knew all too well and everything just went in circles and became a big fat mash of unidentifiable shadows which exploded with a muffled bang when her eyes flew open again.

"Pretty rainy outside, don't you think?"

"Holy mother of… "

Bo turned around and faced her Boss sitting in the back of the Hummer. Some strands of wet hair glued to her cheeks and neck.

"Oh my God. I am so so... I just closed my eyes for a second because of that damn air-condition and…"

Miss Lewis shook her head.

"I could see you from the entrance and you seemed pretty far away."

Bo's face felt warm when embarrassment covered her features like a blanket.

"I am so sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep. I just… the foggy windshield and… the sound of rain and…. I'm so sorry. Now you're all wet and it's cold and maybe I have a blanket in the trunk. Let me just…. "

Before the brunette could turn around to open the door, she was stopped by a hand on her forearm.

"Miss Dennis, it's fine. It's just water and this meeting was longer than I had planned it to be."

"Oh...," was all Bo could find to reply. In her head she had already pictured herself back at the job center arguing with this grumpy dude called Duke about her options on the job market, a middle-aged, mustache-wearer with old coffee breath. Again.

"Please, just drive me home now. It was a long week."

Indeed, it was. Bo nodded and with a growling roar the motor came to life. It had been a long week indeed. A week in which Bo felt the need to address this elephant in the room but wouldn't because there was really nothing to talk about. She just wanted to let Miss Lewis know, she didn't forget since the blonde acted as if nothing happened.

But Bo felt weird all week. She declined to sign a contract that was simply stupid and as useless as a spoon in a Chinese restaurant when all you need is a knife to actually cut that piece of meat and not make it fly into your iced tea glass. Waste of food one point one.

But maybe the should talk about the fact that Bo entered the holy quarters of a certain Miss Lewis and she absolulutely wanted to get in there again. So bad!

"I'm a world ball short, by the way."

Her Bosses voice cut through her thoughts.

"Beg your pardon?"

"This small statue? Carrying a globe? You do not happen to know where I could find it, do you?"

Bo kept her eyes up front.

 _Keep it cool._

"Nope. Sorry."

"Mhm," was all she responded although Bo could swear she heard a smile in Miss Lewis voice.

 _Phew._

On Saturday Bo was sitting on her couch sipping some decaf coffee. She had a weird body reaction to caffeine these days. Shaking hands, sweaty palms and a heart that was beating fast all the way up in her ears like a metronome on 130 bpm. She didn't need that kind of rush on a day off.

Humming the new song of Pink that Bo couldn't get out of her head she skipped through the newspaper that the brunette had borrowed from her neighbor Mr. Douchés. Okay, borrowed would mean she had asked before taking, which she didn't. It also had been a little bit of an amusement watching this little perv through the peephole of her door jumping up and down while cursing, when he couldn't find the newspaper. That alone made it worth getting up at Celly-o'clock.

Bo was a pro in finding new words for any occasion and Celly-o'clock did seem fitting, since that damn phone still yelled at her every morning at the same time.

Her eyes scanned through the event-site and stopped on an advertisement for tonight's open pool tournament in an underground nightclub not far from her apartment. Bo loved pool. Even though the last time she played, she had been thrown out of the bar. It really wasn't her fault but the bartender wouldn't listen to her story.

He only saw a man lying on the floor holding his rocks crying out in pain. That this man thought he could touch Bo's buttocks while she was leaning over to shoot was something no one wanted to hear. Bo had told this man to back off a few times within the game. So, when he still wouldn't stop and she could feel his hand on her ass through her jeans, Bo had lunched out hard with the cue and scored.

Twice.

The black eight was rolling into the left corner right after the wood had crashed straight into nut-land. Bo really couldn't understand how some people thought it was totally okay to invade somebody else's privacy like that. And she also couldn't understand why nobody stood up for her when the bartender disqualified her and showed her the door.

"I'm gonna win some dollars tonight, Bane."

With a broken 'meow' Bane jumped off from his sleeping place on his shelf and strolled into the kitchen.

The club was crowded even though it wasn't later than nine. Loud music was coming out of several big speakers. People were screaming at each other, trying to be heard over the song that was playing. Bo made her way through the mass to the bar.

"What's your liquor tonight?"

The bartender eyed her from waist to chest and never really made his way all the way up to her face. Eventually he looked up. With a smile on his lips and a glass in his hands he waited.

"I take a beer and can you tell me where I can sign up for that tournament?" 

He turned to the fridge and handed Bo a cold bottle.

"It's upstairs. You can't miss it."

"Thanks."

She paid for her drink and tried to squeeze her way through the dancing crowed.

"Ugh."

She couldn't think of anything more disgusting than drunk people jumping around without any feeling for their surroundings anymore. Sweaty, stinky bodies colliding with her naked arms or shoulders. She should have waited to take off her leather jacket. But the heat in the small room almost forced her to lose some fabric.

When she came upstairs she was greeted by some woman standing behind a table.

"Hey, you wanna join? We start in a few minutes."

"Yeah, I do."

The young redhead smiled.

"Great. It's an entry fee of 30. Drinks can be ordered at the bar in the back and here is your number. Your table is the one in the front. You have to sign up over there."

She pointed across the room. Bo searched in her left boot for the thirty dollars and threw them in a big jar standing on the table.

"Gerry will tell you all the details you need to know as soon as he got the number I just gave you. Good luck."

Bo nodded and smiled back. She was excited. It was still very crowded upstairs but at least the music wasn't as loud. There were eight Billiard tables. The only light came from the lamps right over them. Bo took a sip of her beer and made her way over to a young man behind another table.

"Hey, I've been told I have to sign up here."

"Yes, over here."

He handed her a list and a pen. A lot of names were already written down. Bo added hers and gave the man who must be Gerry her number.

"Bo. That's an interesting name. So, we start in around ten minutes. You get a cue over here." 

He pointed at the wall behind him.

"Your table is number one in the front. It's a K.O. system. If you win at your table you are qualified for the next round and play against the winner of table number two. When you make it to the semi-finale you play against the winner of table three and four and the finale is against the one who won all the matches at tables five to eight."

Bo listened only halfhearted. She wanted to start already. She nodded and smiled and was all nice and patient and when Gerry handed her the cue she almost flew over to her table.

She played against a Carl, a Jack, a Muriel and some guy who didn't feel the need to introduce himself. Winning against him was extra fun. The brunette was in her element. People cheered for her, clapped applause and here and there she got herself a drink. She was happy.

Bo won at her table and couldn't wait to see who was coming next. She fought her way through the next round and before she knew it she made it into the semi-finale. Emptying her beer with one last sip, she was leaning against the wall next to table six and watched the last match. Tables one to four were already done and there was a short break, so that the semi-finales could start at the same time.

"Can I buy you another drink?"

She had been asked that question a lot tonight. Every time she had won a match. And every time she declined nicely. So, she put on one of her thanks-but-no-thanks smiles and turned to the female voice's owner.

"Thanks, bu-… What are you doing here?"

Next to her in a tight dark blue tanktop, black jeans and curly blond hair stood Miss Lewis smiling back at her.

"I'll be sending you back home in the next round."

Bo shook her head slightly.

"You play pool?"

"Yes."

Bo was flabbergasted. For once because those hazelnut brown eyes were sparkling in a way she hadn't seen before and also because her Boss was the last person Bo would have guessed to meet here.

"Wow. Uhm. I don't know what to say."

"What about what I can buy you next?"

The blonde pointed at the empty bottle.

"Oh no, no. You really don't have to. Or are you trying to fill me up so that you win the next round? Is it that?"

Her Boss' smile widened.

"I don't think that I need to get you drunk to win against you, Bo."

The brunette felt warm. Very warm. This felt a lot like flirting. The way the blonde looked at her. The way she stood next to her a little bit too close. The way she talked.

"Did you just call me Bo?"

"Maybe?"

And with that Miss Lewis made her way towards the bar.

"What the heck?"

Bo's heart was beating faster. This would be an interesting next round. What had gotten into her Boss? Playing pool? Here, in this nightclub? Flirting with her driver? Being all loose and charming? Bo didn't know shit and she honestly didn't care. She felt way too good right now to think too much into it. The endorphins of winning and drinking had already flooded her veins. So, she followed that woman that looked like her Boss and acted like someone very different.

"I'll have a beer please."

Bo stood close to her Boss when she addressed the bartender.

"So, you think you'll win the next round, Lauren?"

The brunette tested her waters. Her Boss had an amazing poker face at work. But this wasn't work. This was a whole new area.

"Billiard is pure geometry. It's simple."

Bo reached for the bottle the bartender was holding and brushed against the warm flesh of the blonde's upper arm. A jolt of electricity shot through the brunette.

"Geometry. I see. That doesn't answer my question though."

Taking a sip of her own beer, her Boss turned around to face Bo fully. Leaning in a bit, the blonde stared deeply into the brunette's eyes.

"Yes, Bo. I think I'll win against you."

They stared at each other for another second or two when they heard Gerry's voice over the microphone opening the semi-finales at table number four and five.

Another wide smile and the blonde took her beer and strolled through the crowed to table number four.

"Game on!"


End file.
